


Sky Full of Stars

by Dhas



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe, Character Study, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Humor, M/M, Natsu has her shit together, Shiratorizawa, Shiratorizawa-centric, Slice of Life, Slow Burn, Sunshine Kids, Very Mild Drama, What-If, You Should Have Come to Shiratorizawa, come read this it's wholesome, hinata twins, she gets into the elite school because she doesnt choose a sport on a whim
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-23
Updated: 2020-06-11
Packaged: 2020-09-25 01:10:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 67,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20368165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dhas/pseuds/Dhas
Summary: The Hinatas are twins. They're practically identical.But while Shouyou seeks out Karasuno's volleyball team to become the next Little Giant, Natsu is scouted in junior high for soccer, and gets invited to attend Shiratorizawa. While Shouyou sets his eyes on playing volleyball at the highest level possible, his sister wonders how much longer she can play soccer... and if it's worth it to keep going.A Natsu-centric story feat. Shiratorizawa VBC shenanigans, Too Many Soccer OCs, mild teenage drama, and Semi Eita not knowing what a period is. Come join the chaos.





	1. first day

It's not hard to tell them apart. Really.

Shouyou's hair is an orange mop, sticking up in every direction. Natsu uses bobby pins, she really does try to keep it neater. Shouyou smiles more often, he's louder, he waves his hands for emphasis. Natsu talks more, spirals into hard-to-follow rants about whatever's on her mind. She gets more freckles every summer, and he has a year-round sock tan. 

Shouyou is warm and blinding and close like the sun. Natsu is a shining spectacle out of reach, a scattering of stars at night. Shouyou is a bundle of energy, fire condensed into a small, beaming package, and his sister, his other half, his twin, is a swell of possibilities, fearlessly yearning towards the dark unknown.

Now, that sounds well and good enough, but at first glance, it’s certainly not what anyone notices. What they notice is the three centimeter height difference; Shouyou’s child-like energy, and assume Natsu must be a few years ahead of him. In reality, their age difference is counted in minutes, not years.

What matters most to Shouyou and Natsu about telling them apart, however, is the fact that Shouyou plays volleyball and Natsu plays soccer. Completely different sports. Zero overlap.

And being asked about the wrong sport drives them both _crazy_.

“Did you get any points today, Nacchan?” Mom will ask, and Natsu will let her face fall directly into her curry in dismay.

“No, mom, I didn’t score any _goals_,” Natsu sighs each time.

“So did you find any friends to be a striker with you, Shouyou?” Dad will inquire, trying and failing to be more excited about his son’s interests.

“It’s called a _spiker_, and a _setter_,” Shouyou replies patiently, feeling his heart break a little more each time. Yes, there’s a net in both sports, but that’s the only similarity he or Natsu can see.

“That high school you picked, I think your team was in nationals last year, right?” A dear uncle makes conversation when he visits, oblivious sipping on a cup of tea while his nephew chokes on air.

“Eh?” Shouyou’s heart jumps right into his mouth before he catches Natsu’s sympathetic head shake. “Ah, you’re thinking of Natsu’s school. Their volleyball team actually went to nationals more recently than Karasuno.” He can see the question forming in his uncle’s eyes and leaps on an explanation before it can be voiced. “I-I chose Karasuno because of their playing style! When they went to nationals, there was this shorter player they nicknamed the _Little Giant_, and so…”

He sees the glazed-over look that most people get when he tries to explain, but forges on anyway. Natsu receives the same uninterested head-nodding acknowledgement, after all, whenever she tries to tell her junior high friends she’s going so far for high school because she got in on a sports scholarship, so no, she won’t be skipping any weekend practices to go to the movies this year.

“Do you think you’ll make the starting roster this year?” Shouyou wonders, the night before their first semester of high school begins. They have separate rooms but they’re huddled in Natsu’s room tonight, trying to talk away the jitters before it consumes them both.

Natsu shrugs, looking pensively at the hem of her sleeve. “They have a huge team, but I heard a rumor that the coach hardly uses any of their subs. She’d rather not disrupt the chemistry of the players, even if it means running them into the ground.” Shouyou’s eyes widen at the idea, a little unnerved by how ruthless his sister’s future coach might be—and yet Natsu’s eyes flash with fervor. “I’m _definitely_ going to be a starter. I’ll do anything.”

“Me too,” Shouyou grins toothily. “I’m going to be the ace!”

“I’ll be the _captain_,” Natsu promises.

“Uuwoooahh, Natsu, you talk big!”

“Oh, and you don’t, Mr. _Shrimpy Ace_?”

Shouyou gasps in horror. “Betrayed by my own blood! Get out of my sight, I can’t look at you right now.”

“_You_ get out,” Natsu cackles, placing her foot against his chest firmly shoving him right off the futon. “This is my room!”

Shouyou bounces to his feet in a flutter of blankets and stuffed animals. “You’re right! I better get to bed, I have to leave early—goodnight, Natsu.”

“Good luck,” she responds warmly, flopping back onto her pillow. Shouyou lobs a cat-shaped pillow at her head. “Karasuno’s volleyball team won’t know what hit ‘em!”

“Neither will Shiratorizawa’s soccer team,” her brother calls back, sliding her door shut. A moment later she hears a loud thud. “_ACK!_” Shouyou hollers, probably knocking over his bookbag. Natsu giggles, and falls asleep with a smile on her face

* * *

While Shouyou has an hour-long bike ride to his school, Natsu has a thirty-minute bus ride to the Academy’s ridiculously large campus in the capital of Miyagi. She wanders around on her first day, not only because _oh my gosh those fields are pristine_, but because she soon realizes that she can’t figure out where the main building is.

“Oh no,” Natsu mumbles, backtracking to the last posted sign she’d read. It says the academic buildings are to the left, but isn’t that a gym? Or maybe an auditorium. Natsu cranes her head to the side._ Is it behind the auditorium?_ She has a morning practice that starts in another fifteen minutes, but it’d be nice to know where her class will be… Suddenly, she was struck by a deep sense of melancholy. This is the first time she and Shouyou will be in different schools. They’re often separated into different classes, but Shouyou’s always been within reach. Now, she’s alone at a high-pressure academy and no friends to lean on. She can’t even find her classroom without Shouyou’s steady support at her back.

“They shoulda sent a _map_ with the uniform!” Natsu huffs, throwing her hands in the air.

Suddenly there’s firm pressure on Natsu’s shoulders and she’s whirled around. “A map? _Do you have a map?!_” Someone demands desperately, clutching her arms and looming over her with dark, guileless eyes. “Please tell me you have a map, I’m late for practice!”

Natsu, frightened out of her wits, takes in his frantic expression, the gym bag over his shoulder, the knee pads sliding down his legs, and shrieks in shared terror. “Late for _volleyball_ practice?! It’s the _first day!_”

“I knooow!” He wails, practically shaking as he releases her. He leans back, and Natsu gets a better look at his lean, tall form. Definitely a volleyball player. His black hair, cut into a severe bowl-cut, is a mess of fluff as he runs another nervous hand over his scalp. Dark brown eyes beseech her. “Please help me, I have to make a good impression!”

Natsu whips her head back and forth, thinking fast. “Which gym?” She asks sternly.

“Huh?” The student looks at her with wide, hopeful eyes. “Oh! Um, Gym Four! Have you seen it?!”

She lets out a huge sigh of relief, and nods furiously. “I did! It’s back that way—the building with a big circle window pointing east!” Natsu stabs her hand in the proper direction.

“REALLY?!” The boy seems near tears, he’s so relieved. “Thank you! I gotta go!”

“Go!” Natsu ushers him away with a wave. “Good luck!!” She calls after his sprinting figure.

He doesn’t say anything back, but Natsu doesn’t mind. She grins anyway, swiveling back around towards the track and adjusting the strap of her bag. The soccer team is collecting on the corner of the field, still chatting amongst themselves. Natsu jogs over with a bright, hopeful smile. “Yo! Good morning everyone!”

* * *

pic: 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm not good at first chapters, but I promise this is a fun story


	2. goshiki

An hour later, Natsu drags herself out of the locker room and slinks off to class four, utterly exhausted. So many sprints. _Are my legs even legs anymore?_

Morning practice had been ruthless. They never even touched the ball. It was all conditioning, run after run, drill after drill. Natsu kept up, but next to the third years she looked like a limp noodle by the time they wrapped up. She did have the sense to ask her senpai for directions to class, thankfully, and slumps into the classroom with a few minutes to spare before the bell.

Just as her eyes begin to droop and Natsu becomes more and more convinced she can squeeze in a catnap, a blunt poke to her shoulder heaves her back into consciousness. “Huhh?” Natsu murmurs, squinting over her right shoulder.

“Ah, hi again,” a deep voice greets her tentatively. Natsu blinks a few times, slowly recognizing the uneven black hair and dark brown eyes. “Sorry to wake you…”

“Uwah! _Volleyball!_” Natsu strings together the facts in a daze, but her eyes light up in elation.

He seems pleased enough by her recognition, and a small, amused smile tugs at his lips. “Yeah, I’m on the volleyball team,” he confirms, reaching a hand to rub at the back of his neck. “I just wanted to thank you for earlier.”

“Didja get in trouble?” Natsu’s brow furrows in concern. “Were you late?”

“Ah, only by a minute, but Washijo is a strict coach,” he admits with a slight wince. He begins to rub at his chin, which she notices is a little pinker than it should be. “We all started with a 100 dives, but I had to do 150.”

“Ouch,” Natsu says sympathetically.

“It’s okay,” he says emphatically, “That just means I’ll be that much better at diving! Seriously, though, if I were any later it would’ve looked very bad—so thank you, really!”

“Of course,” Natsu smiles happily, glad he’s still so positive about the team. Shiratorizawa’s volleyball team had a well-known reputation for having one of the most demanding coaches in their league, so Natsu really had been just as worried as the actual student had felt for running late. It was beginning to look like her own coach operated similarly.

“Um,” he murmurs, drawing her eye again. But his gaze flitters to the ground as soon as she looks up. “I’m—” he makes an aborted move to stand up (To do what? Bow at her?!), but thinks better of it since they’re both already seated at their desks. Instead he thrusts forward a long, tanned hand at the orange-haired girl. “Goshiki Tsutomu, it’s a pleasure to meet you!”

Natsu beams, quickly giving his hand a firm shake. “Hinata Natsu! Nice to meet you, Goshiki-kun!”

Goshiki seems pleased, though a little flustered by the volume of her voice. “Hinata-san,” he says nervously, “I was wondering… Do you play volleyball too? Are you on the girls’ team?”

On this one occasion, she will forgive Goshiki for thinking so. She also thinks it's very cute and polite to refer to her as ‘Hinata-san’. Most people use her first name to differentiate between Natsu and Shouyou. “Not anymore. But I’m on the girls’ soccer team!”

“Oh? Did you practice this morning too?” He asks, but his eyes flicker over her whole frame, clearly already knowing the answer by the way she’s slowly becoming a puddle on the floor. “You seem a bit exhausted.”

“Not practice—_conditioning_,” Natsu corrects him solemnly, flopping back into her seat. “We didn’t even touch the ball, we’re just working on endurance. So many sprints, Goshiki-kun! Sameshima wants us to _die_, I’m sure.”

“Is that the coach? She sounds just as bad as Washijo,” Goshiki gives her a sympathetic look when she hums in confirmation.

“That’s Shiratorizawa for ya,” Natsu shrugs. “Besides, it’s probably for the best. Like your diving—it’ll help my stamina!” She thinks of Shouyou’s daily bike ride, and wonders if she could incorporate something similar into her routine without totally burning herself out.

“I don’t know much about soccer, but you sound like you work very hard,” Goshiki offers kindly, tilting his head. “I’ve only ever played volleyball… ah, what position do you play in soccer?”

The fact that he’s trying even without knowing about the game is really very sweet if you ask Natsu. “I’m a midfielder, but soccer positions are more flexible than yours. I just want to be in the center, because they control the game.” Goshiki nods. “What I really want to be is the attacking midfielder, but…” Her hand clenches into an angry fist, “The captain took one look at me and said I’d be a good striker. A striker. All they do is hang around the goal posts! A midfielder is the heart of the team, we go around the whole field and stand our ground! They haven’t seen me play for their team yet, but they need someone like me in the middle, there’s no other first year that can do it! I’m—I’m… ah!” Natsu realizes she’s rambling. Again. To a total stranger that probably doesn’t care all that much about girl’s soccer. She squeezes her eyes shut. “I’m sorry, I must be boring you with all this!”

“N-No! Not at all!” Goshiki stammers out. Natsu lifts her head warily, and the tall boy stares back, looking a little bemused. Except—his eyes don’t have that glazed-over look she’d been dreading. Instead, he gazes back at her intently, and his hands are curled into fists of his own on his desk. “I don’t know how the game works, but—I know _exactly_ how you feel, Hinata-san. I’m a wing spiker and—and I’m going to be Shiratorizawa’s _ace_ one day, once I prove to the team I’m worthy!”

Unlike Goshiki, Natsu knows precisely what that means for him. Her eyes are wide with awe. “_Ushijima_ is the ace right now,” Natsu breathes, and her new friend seems a little surprised that she even knows the name, but nods stubbornly. “That’s… that’s…” She chews on her lip, finding the right words. “That’s so _inspiring_, Goshiki-kun!” Natsu cries, leaning forward. “You’re so _cool!_”

The boy looks ready to cry too, his face going slack with wonder. “H-H-Hinata-san,” he stammers out, suddenly floundering for words. His face is bright pink. “That means _so much_ to me! You’re so _sweet_, I—I hope you become the attacking midfielder, too!”

“Th-thank you!” Natsu feels like he’s knocked the wind out of her, but in a good way.

“Good morning, class,” The teacher’s voice cracks across the room like a whip, and Natsu bites her tongue to stop from screaming. Sharp black eyes stifle all the joy bubbling out of Natsu, and she cringes as the rest of the class shoot her taunting looks. “Now, if we’re all done _chatting_ with one another…”

Natsu doesn’t dare look at Goshiki again for the duration of their morning, knowing her face must be red as a tomato. Finally, the bell rings to signal the beginning of their lunch period, and Natsu begins the slow process of re-solidifying into a normal school-girl shape from the puddle she’s melted into.

“Hinata-san?” Goshiki is already on his feet, fiddling with a blue mechanical pencil between taped-up fingers. “Um. I don’t want to sound presumptuous, but you’re the only person I know here, so would it be okay if we sat together for lunch?”

Natsu’s heart swells. “Yes! I don’t know anyone here either! That sounds great, Goshiki-kun! Ah—I need to buy lunch, I was told Shiratorizawa has a good cafeteria, so—”

“Oh, me too,” Goshiki assures her, perking up. “My scholarship includes some credit for lunch food, and my senpais say the food here is very nutritious and I want to start building muscle, so—ah—yes, I’ll go too,” his sentence peters off, and he fumbles with the zipper on his bag to put his pencil away.

Natsu knows why he’s acting so off, but she can’t help but feel a little exasperated. She’s a girl, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t want to talk about sports too! She’s just as interested in gaining muscles as any other athlete. “You’re so lucky they gave you money for food!” Natsu confesses as they follow the stream of first years to the cafeteria. “I have a partial scholarship for soccer, but it only covers textbooks and school supplies, stuff like that. And I’m starving! Y’know what they made us do this morning? _Pyramid sprints_.”

Goshiki raises his eyebrows, intrigued. His shoulders lower from where they’re bunched around his ears, relaxing as she speaks. “I don’t think I’ve done those, what is that?” He gazes at her with earnest interest, something she so rarely sees from anyone besides her brother. Even her junior high teammates hadn’t been so eager to talk about athletics when they weren't on the field.

“It means death!” Natsu grouses, running a hand through her hair and displacing two bobby pins. “Eight 50-meter runs. Six 100-meter runs. Four 200-meter runs. Two 400-meter run. And then you go back down the pyramid!” The volleyball player’s jaw drops. “That was just the start!”

“How do you still have _legs?!_” Goshiki cries as they enter the cafeteria.

“That’s what I’m wondering! We ended the regime with a two kilometer run!” Natsu exclaims, raising her knee and clutching at her own thigh. “These twigs are gonna break if I don’t get stronger!”

Goshiki slaps a hand over his mouth, but can’t quite stifle his laughter or hide his reddening cheeks. “Put that twig down before it snaps!” He flushes with color and looks away from her skirt. Maybe her humor’s a little inappropriate, but it’s still _funny_. Natsu giggles too, covering her face as she drops her leg, and then they catch each other’s eye—and then they’re both cackling loudly in the middle of the cafeteria without a care in the world.


	3. lunch

In the cafeteria line, Goshiki piles on even more rice than Shouyou would’ve. It genuinely impresses Natsu, and when she tells him so, the wing spiker just stammers out a thank you, admitting that he’s a little embarrassed by the size of his own appetite. As she pays for her meal, Goshiki lingering ahead of her to search for seats, there’s a call across the lunchroom for the volleyball player.

Another tall student is waving to Goshiki from a table full of more tall guys, and it can only mean more volleyball players. Goshiki’s eyes widen in delighted shock.

“Th-that’s _Ohira_-senpai,” Goshiki realizes excitedly, waving back. Then he freezes, looking at Natsu with rounded eyes as she steps up to his side. “Hinata-san… I asked if I could sit with you…I can't just leave now..." 

It goes beyond obligation for Tsutomu. Hinata was _nice_ to him, inexplicably supportive after he spent all morning being glared at by the regulars on his volleyball team. Maybe his reasons are selfish, but he couldn't just abandon Hinata Natsu after how kind she's been to him. 

Natsu would have held up her hand and waved him away if she weren’t holding such a heavy tray of food, so she settles for shaking her head like an unruly dog. “No, no, no! Goshiki-kun, that’s your _team!_ You _have_ to sit with them!” She insists, even as a part of her feels like a snuffed out flame and her eyes dart around, searching for any familiar faces.

“Your team isn’t looking for _you_,” Goshiki voices her worried thought, his brow furrowed in conflict. “Where are they?” He'd feel much better about leaving her behind if he saw her team, but Hinata had already admitted she had no friends at Shiratorizawa yet. 

“Ah, we have a much bigger squad,” Natsu explains lightly, chewing her lip. Her captain is sitting with two third years, but the first years she remembers are scattered throughout the room, and many others aren't even here. “I don’t think they sit together like _that_,” she eyes the small group of volleyball boys with no real animosity, but a generous helping of jealousy that can't be helped. Her own teammates have hardly spoken a word to her off the field. 

He presses his lips together in thought, staring hard at Natsu, and then his team. Then he switches to holding his lunch tray with one hand—wow, that's a lot of food to balance on one arm, Natsu thinks it might tip over—and his other hand curls around Natsu’s sleeve and tugs her forward. Natsu yelps, carefully tilting her tray so she doesn’t spill it. “Come with me, I’m going to ask them something,” Goshiki says stubbornly.

“_Ask_ them—?” Natsu splutters helplessly. He’s not exactly a weak guy, and Natsu doesn’t think he’s aware of his own strength as he drags her along. She can't quite argue with him while focusing on not spilling her food. “_Uwaahh_, Goshiki-kun! I’m fine, it’s okay if you leave me!”

“Let me ask first,” Goshiki insists, and the closer the team gets, the bigger they appear to Natsu. Goshiki is pretty darn tall on his own, but the rest of the team? The third years??_ Enormous!_ Bigger than the goalkeeper! Bigger than the _goal_ itself! 

“Goshiki-kun, are they _all_ senpai?” She whispers as they draw near, trying to formulate a plan as to not embarrass herself. “I can’t tell, you’re all so big.”

“Ah, yes,” he whispers back quickly. “There’s only two other first year recruits and I don’t see them—but _don’t_ be afraid! They aren’t scary, only the coach is,” Goshiki promises.

Natsu is not, strictly speaking, _afraid_. She isn’t as nervous around tall people as Shouyou is, having gotten over many of her fears by playing such a rough contact sport throughout junior high. It’s not their size that bothers her, but the fact that she’s a total _outsider_ to what looks like a close-knit group. Natsu desperately wants a place to belong, but this group is so different from what she knows, and therefore everything she fears. She can’t make eye contact with any of the volleyball players, they’re giving her _looks_, they’re _definitely_ judging her scrawny form and _scruffy_ orange hair—

“Oooh, Tsutomu-kun, did you really have to bring your _girlfriend_ with you? What sort of kouhai are you?” A red-haired giant drawls out in a sing-song voice, craning his long neck over the table to get a better look at her. Natsu thinks she’s having a _heart attack._

_Girlfriend?!_ She just _met_ Goshiki! Natsu can't handle this horrible sort of scrutiny—

“Th-this is my friend, Hinata Natsu!” Goshiki yelps, waving a swift hand between himself and Natsu as if to physically sever any suggestive ties linking them. “J-just _friends!_ Hinata-san is on the soccer team! She’s very nice and I was wondering if she could sit here too, please?!” He pauses, his face twisting into something obstinate and sour to prevent himself from showing any outward nervousness.

The table is so silent you could hear a pin drop. Natsu thinks she might sweat through her shirt, it’s so painfully quiet. She glances around the team, seeing various levels of bemusement and shock. Oh, he was too rude when he asked, wasn’t he? It’s only the first day, and she’s ruined it for Goshiki! Dread and guilt wells up in her throat. Just as Natsu opens her mouth to take it all back, to smooth things over and apologizing for the intrusion—

“I don’t really care,” A boy with straight, strawberry-blonde hair huffs, rolling his eyes. “But you should be more respectful to your senpais, Goshiki-kun.”

“It’s okay, Goshiki-kun,” a player with spiky dark hair refutes the previous boy with a friendly smile.

“She can sit too,” Another player speaks up, pointing to the gap in the table where two seats might fit. He has a steady, commanding-sort of voice that compels the others to pay attention. If Natsu didn't know better she'd assume he was the captain. “This isn’t some exclusive table or anything.”

“Ahh, it kind of _is_, though,” the red-headed player argues in a low, lyrical voice, tilting his head. Still, the players on the other side of the table shift over little by little until there’s enough space for two more chairs. “We’re the _stars_ of this academy, don’t you think? The _strongest_. You should be grateful, _Natsu-kun_,” he smirks.

Goshiki bows formally, choosing not to address the redhead egging him on. “Thank you, senpai,” he sighs, pulling out a chair for Natsu.

“Yes, thank you…” Natsu takes the seat, but her lips curl into a small frown as she looks at the red-haired student. She’s a little confused about being referred to as ‘Natsu-kun’ (she doesn’t look that boyish, does she?), but her larger issue is what he suggested about the Academy's sports teams. “But your team _isn’t_ the only strong one at Shiratorizawa, ah, senpai,” she says, trying not to sound too forward. By the bemused look on his face, she’s not really succeeding.

“_Hinata_,” Goshiki whispers, half-amazed and half-terrified for her.

Natsu jumps. She doesn’t mean to cause trouble. “Ah, I-I mean—well! It’s true? In the past ten years, _two_ alumni from the girls’ soccer team have played in international games, and five are playing professionally in Japan. That’s why I chose this school. I don't know what you mean by claiming the volleyball club is more exclusive.” The red-haired player stares at her with a stony face, totally unreadable, and Natsu ends her statement by shoveling a whole rice ball into her face, downright mortified.

“...Wow,” someone with a buzzed head comments with a low whistle. She isn’t sure he’s referring to how she spoke to an elder or how she’s managed to eat so much rice in two bites.

“You’ve got some guts for a first year,” a good-looking gray-haired player grumbles, stabbing at his lunch tray.

Natsu gives an indifferent shrug, cheeks red, but refuses to apologize. It's the _truth_, after all, and she won't let some volleyball fanatics forget how important the soccer team is. “Please pardon the intrusion,” she says belatedly, glancing at Goshiki apologetically.

“It’s okay,” a player with tanned skin and curly hair reassures her and Goshiki. The one with enough authority to be a captain-like player. “It’s kind of refreshing to meet someone who doesn’t play volleyball. I can see you’re very passionate about your own sport, and I respect that.” Natsu could _cry_, she’s so relieved by his presence. He’s more muscular than Goshiki, and probably a third year, but he reserves a small, friendly smile for her. “I’m Ohira Reon.”

“Hinata Natsu,” she bows her head quickly. “Thank you for having me.”

“That’s Shirabu, Semi, and Yunohama,” Ohira points to the blond player, the gray-haired one, and then the buzz-cut player in turn. Natsu prays to every deity that she doesn’t mess up their names, and takes nervous bites of her food as she tries to concentrate. She gets far enough to remember that the gray-haired one is the handsomest, and also the most intimidating.

“I’m Yamagata, third year libero,” the one with spiky hair adds helpfully. Natsu _does_ know what a libero is, but her junior high team never had one. She’s kind of glad they haven’t all introduced themselves with their positions on the court, it would be too much for her to remember right off the bat.

“Yoo, _Natsu-kun_, I’m Tendou Satori,” the red-haired senpai cuts in with a cheshire smile. He definitely must be aware that she’s a girl at this point, so maybe he just refers to _everyone_ with ‘-kun’? Something about his hawk-like gaze suggests that he wants to draw out her reaction, and Natsu resolves right then and there that she won't be baited so easily. Tendou waves his finger in a circle before it comes to a stop at the other end of the table. “There’s our stoic vice captain, Soekawa Jin, and our Miracle Boy, Ushijima Wakatoshi!”

Natsu doesn’t even have _half_ the love for volleyball that Shouyou does, but she certainly knows about Shiratorizawa’s star pupil, simply through the reputation of the school itself. Shouyou had been downright frightened when they looked up Ushijima's stats together, and Natsu hadn't expected to ever be this close to the ace. _Tendou has a point. Maybe this is the exclusive table,_ Natsu realizes in growing discomfort as she looks past Goshiki to see the two in question. The vice captain has dark brown hair and a gentle expression on his face despite the severe downturn of his eyebrows.

Ushijima just looks like all his pictures—handsome and stern, but also sort of a blank slate.

Soekawa Jin simply acknowledges her with a brief nod. Ushijima looks up from a book to Tendou, blinking olive green eyes. “Yes?” he asks the redhead plainly.

“Wakatoshi-kun, where are your manners? Tsutomu-kun brought a guest!” Tendou teases, fluttering a hand at Natsu.

At least she’s not the only one to cringe. Shirabu and Semi don’t look very impressed either by his exuberance. Natsu likes enthusiasm, but not when it’s unfounded, and it feels like she’s being built up for no reason. Ushijima looks past Tendou to stare right at Natsu with a rather flat expression. “...Who are you?”

“Hinata,” Natsu feels like her tongue has turned to lead, and she’s not sure how else to respond. He doesn’t know her, after all, and what business does a soccer player have at the volleyball table? Should she give him her year and position on the field, like Yamagata did? Ushijima is still giving her a blank frown. _Yikes_, if he doesn’t like her will she have to find somewhere else to sit? “G-Goshiki and I are friends,” she adds pathetically. She's only known Goshiki for a total of three hours... 

Goshiki sighs loudly, clearing regretting this entire conversation. Tendou looks _immensely_ amused. “Ushijima-senpai, this is my friend, Hinata Natsu,” he repeats her name in a strained voice. “I hope you don’t mind her sitting with us, but I was planning to sit with her before Ohira-senpai invited me, and it didn’t seem right to just leave her.”

“...I see,” Ushijima’s expression doesn’t change at all when Natsu waves a hand at him. He clearly hasn’t been paying any attention to the idle conversation at the table until now. And just as quickly as he was drawn into the conversation, he recedes back to his textbook. “That’s fine.”

The two first years exchange private, relieved looks.

The team soon settles back into place, only making small talk as the boys feast on several servings of meat and rice and vegetables. Most of them have even more food than Goshiki, though Tendou Satori seems to be the exception, slowly picking at the grilled fish on his plate while reading manga on his smartphone. Natsu eats a generous portion on her own, and tries not to be bothered by the side conversations or the occasional looks thrown her way.

She has a feeling the students sitting at the tables around them have more to say about her place at this particular table, but Natsu prefers to eat her nerves away. This is something she doesn’t have in common with Shouyou—he tends to vomit up his anxiety when things get too tense, but Natsu has a stomach of steel and stuffs her face to alleviate the butterflies in her belly.

“Hinata-san,” Goshiki eventually draws her attention once more. Natsu happily sucks on a carton of milk as she looks up at him. “I was wondering about something you said earlier… you know a _lot_ about volleyball, and when I asked if you played…”

“Oh, yeah,” Natsu confirms brightly, “I _used_ to play, but I prefer soccer. The court’s too small, I like being able to _run_.” She shares a knowing look with Goshiki when she taps her knees, and gets a grin out of him. Despite how she complained about this morning, Natsu _does_ enjoy the burn in her legs from the exertion.

“Yeah, that sounds like a requirement for soccer,” Goshiki says with a laugh. He shakes his head, baffled at the sort of conditioning the soccer teams go through. “But, ah, did you have a favorite position in volleyball? I don’t know if striker is anything like a spiker, or if middle blocker is like a midfielder…”

“_Uwaahh_, Goshiki-kun, don’t try to _equate_ our sports! It just gets confusing, trust me,” Natsu laughs, elbowing him. “There’s a _ton_ of positions in soccer, and it changes depending on our formation.”

Truth be told, Natsu actually researched a lot of volleyball for her brother, trying to relay the information to her idiot twin, and was intrigued enough by the sport to try it herself. Shouyou gets ideas in his head, like becoming the next Little Giant, but never _thinks_ about how to actually accomplish his goals until he hits an obstacle, leaving her to make up the difference. But at the same time, Natsu’s not much better; she was _so sure_ she could do anything Shouyou could, and joined the girls’ volleyball team just to prove it.

“It’s _not_ like midfield, for the record, but I was a middle blocker for my first year in junior high before I switched back to soccer," Natsu admits, feeling sort of contrite. 

“_Middle blocker?_” Goshiki blinks in surprise. A few of their senpai turn their heads at her words too. “Really? I wouldn’t have guessed that. Usually, middle blockers are, um..”

“Taller?” Natsu guesses, a sharp gleam in her eye as Goshiki nods apologetically. “I know, but that’s just what us Hinatas are best at: jumping _real_ high. So it worked out.”

Her friend seems surprised by her response, but before he can question her further, an older player interrupts.

“_Ohhhh?_ Middle blocker, you say?” Tendou tilts his head so far he’s looking at her sideways over Ohira’s tray. Ohira gently takes his entire head and turns him upright, and then pushes him away from his meal. “Were you any good, Natsu-kun?”

Natsu huffs out a laugh and shakes her head. She should’ve expected volleyball to consume this conversation as soon as she walked over to this table. “My timing was fine, but do you _see_ my arms? I’m a _noodle!”_ She stretches her arms out in front of her, utterly serious with her sleeves rolled up a bit. “My hand-eye coordination just wasn’t there for hard blocks.” Really, she only got any experience with volleyball because Shouyou was so crazy about the sport, and she corralled him into a few practice matches with the girls in junior high—much to Shouyou’s embarrassment. Shouyou didn’t really have a sport to play until then, but Natsu had been playing pick-up games of soccer since she saw a game on the beach when they were six or seven years old.

“You’ve got a point,” Shirabu agrees cooly, eyeing her arms like they’re chickens too scrawny to make a meal from. He levels his gaze on her face. “So, are you any good at _soccer?_” He asks, plainly skeptical.

Lightning flashes in Natsu’s eyes.

(Ohira, sitting directly across from the first year girl, feels a shiver run down his spine when he catches the look on her face.)

She smiles woodenly at Shirabu. “Yes. I’m a _very_ good soccer player, Shirabu-senpai.” She doesn’t quite voice the words _Better than you_, because it doesn’t make sense in the context of them playing totally different sports, but the essence of her thought seems to smack him in the face all the same.

Beside Ohira, Tendou leans back and mutters under his breath, “That’s a scary look for such a tiny kouhai.”

“Hinata-san is here on a sports scholarship too,” Goshiki backs her up, throwing Shirabu a slightly annoyed glance. “They don’t give those out to just any students.” Then his face lights up. “Ohira-senpai, does the volleyball team do conditioning workouts?”

“Conditioning?” The third year arches an eyebrow. “Yes, but mostly during training camps. We do some long-distance runs between tournaments too, but our regular practices are for skill training. Why?”

The wing spiker points a thumb at Natsu. “Hinata-san was telling me about her endurance training,” he explains, prompting her to speak. “It sounded very intense, especially pyramid runs.”

“Ah, our workouts are all cardio-based,” she begins tentatively, “Sometimes the difference in endurance is what wins the game, rather than skill level. So we do a ton of running exercises. Sameshima-sensei doesn’t like to use subs unless someone’s injured—so if you can’t last all ninety minutes on the field, she’ll never use you.” Natsu glances at Ohira to see that he’s still listening, and feels confident enough to keep talking. “Pyramid runs are just for sprints, but it starts with eight 50 meter runs…”

Her explanation sparks a larger conversation amongst the team about their own goals between strength training and developing their skill sets, and Natsu is easily drawn into the conversation when they move onto long-distance running and their personal best times. Natsu gives Goshiki a thankful smile a few minutes later, one that he returns enthusiastically as his team continues their discussion. Her phone buzzes with a text, and Natsu puts down her chopsticks to look at it.

_ **Nacchaaaann!! Karasuno is so cool, I don’t know where anything is!! How is the Academy???** _

She types back a quick response, knowing they’ll probably have much more to talk about tonight when they both get back from afternoon practice.

**Shouchaaaan! I got lost, the campus is so big!! The soccer fields are gorgeous, I’m gonna cry!!**

He’ll definitely be interested to find out her first friend at Shiratorizawa is a wing spiker for the volleyball team, but that’s a conversation that would leave her phone buzzing all day and drain her battery. She’ll wait till they’re home to talk about their new peers. Shouyou’s even friendlier than Natsu, so she’s not worried about him making friends, though it’s odd to think she’ll probably never meet most of them.

“Goshiki-kun,” Natsu says suddenly, turning over an idea in her head. _I know we just met but I think we’re going to be good friends, so…_ He looks up, and she holds out her phone hopefully, already opened to enter a new contact.

His eyes land on the screen, and he looks a little incredulous as he accepts the phone with a shaking hand. “_Oh_,” he says softly, like he hadn’t ever expected to be in this position. He doesn’t say anything more, but a tiny smile nudges at the corner of his mouth as he types in his information. Goshiki hands the phone back, his ears colored a deep red. A few of his teammates chuckle as the first year ducks his head, but only one is bold enough to comment.

“Natsu-kuuuuun,” Tendou sings her name abruptly, startling Natsu as she sends Goshiki a 'hello' text with a ton of emojis. “Don’t you want _my_ number too?”

“Eh? _Why?_” Natsu puffs, flustered by the candid question. She misses Goshiki’s wheeze of embarrassment at her plethora of emojis, drawn by Tendou’s curious request. Yunohama looks over Goshiki’s other shoulder and snorts quietly.

Tendou pouts at her, suddenly looking much younger, almost child-like. “Because! We’re… _matching_. Ginger-haired middle blockers!” He declares with a flourish, flicking his red hair. “We need to _stick together_.”

“But…” Natsu gives him a long, uncertain stare, before her eyes slide over to one of the players two seats away from Tendou.

This particular student was never introduced to Natsu, and had not done anything but eat his meal with an annoyed look on his face this entire lunch period. However, his dark ginger hair was just a shade off from Natsu’s hair color, and it stuck up around his head just as wildly as her own hairstyle. The volleyball player meets her eye without hesitation to share a silent, telepathic ginger conversation that conveys, _We're the matching gingers here, not Tendou._

“Kawanishi Taichi,” the ginger boy offers his name after a moment. Natsu lights up in joy despite the lackluster introduction and gives him a polite nod. Kawanishi returns to his meal in peace.

“Tendou-senpai, I think Kawanishi-san and I match more,” Natsu concludes politely, turning him down.

"I'm also a middle blocker," Kawanishi adds, not looking up from his food. Natsu hums in agreement. Tendou pouts again, looking between the two gingers wordlessly. 

Yamagata, the friendly one with spiky hair, bursts into laughter on Natsu’s left. “_Nice kill,_ Kawanishi-kun, Hinata-chan!” He cackles, clutching his stomach. A few of the other players snicker as well, Goshiki included, while Tendou droops for a moment. But the laughter eases any lingering tension amongst the teammates, and Natsu thinks that Tendou doesn’t seem to mind at all being the butt of a joke.

“Maaaah, it can’t be helped. Taichi-kun is the _true_ ginger twin,” Tendou admits, and Natsu can’t help but giggle at the irony. She draws a few raised eyebrows, but no one questions her. If she brings up Shouyou now, Natsu has the feeling this table won’t ever shut up about volleyball. This is the first time she’s been her own Hinata—the _only_ Hinata—at school, and a part of her doesn’t want to shift that image to the novelty of having an _actual_ ginger twin.

Lunch ends with the volleyball team reminding Goshiki not to be late again, or their coach will punish the whole team with more dives or serves. Natsu walks back to class at a rather brisk pace, just barely keeping up with Goshiki’s long legs.

“Thank you for including me, Goshiki-kun,” Natsu tells him quietly. She’s sure she’d have made some friends eventually and sat with some decent students on her own, or maybe go out to the field and practice with a ball, but it was far more comforting to sit next to Goshiki, even amongst a forest of giants. “You didn’t have to.”

“It seemed right,” Goshiki picks at the edge of taping over his fingers. “Sorry about Tendou-senpai, he just likes to tease.” Then he winces. “And Shirabu. He can be harsh.”

“It's okay. He just hasn’t seen me play,” Natsu brushes off any concerns about his team’s treatment of her. She’s used to making friends through Shouyou half the time, and doesn’t mind a few silly boys goading her. “I still like them all, though! I hope I can bring my team to be as close as yours. They’re kind of distant right now,” Natsu confesses. “But what do I know? I haven’t been to a full practice, I haven’t even _played_ with them yet!”

“We mostly worked on spikes or receives this morning,” Goshiki agrees as they reach their classroom. “We’ll do more drills, but I’m waiting to hear about when we’ll have our first practice match!”

“So you can pester the coach about becoming the _ace_, you mean?” She asks, eyes flashing.

“Of course!” Goshiki seems to vibrate with energy. “Man, I can’t wait for classes to finish up so we can get back to playing.”

“Me too,” Natsu reveals. “I feel like I still have so much to prove!” Her friend beams back, and the two of them chatter about their positions while the rest of the class trickles in.


	4. twig legs

Meanwhile, Ohira and a few other starting players from the volleyball team exchange thoughtful looks, wondering about their surprise guest at lunch. “Goshiki has a lot of potential,” Ohira comments hesitantly. “I hope that girl doesn’t distract him.”

“He said they’re just friends,” Yamagata points out genially. “And I don’t mind having her around, she’s not too shy or scared of any of us. It’s nice.” That alone causes murmurs ripple through the volleyball team. They were approached all the time by random students, either to congratulate them on a game or wish them luck—or to confess to Ushijima, though that never ended well. But the volleyball team consisted of tall and muscular young men, and it unnerved a lot of the girls. The basketball team faced a similar problem. Their team’s reputation had grown so formidable since Ushijima became the ace, most girls were too intimidated to befriend any of them.

It didn't help that Ushijima was absolutely ruthless when he rejected confessions. Tendou was working on it.

“She’s feisty,” the guess blocker adds his two cents with a laugh. “Did you see Tsutomu-kun blush when she asked for his number? Young love is so beautiful!”

“Goshiki doesn’t have a chance in hell,” Semi rolls his eyes. “If he’s like this just talking to a cute girl for a few hours, he’ll be _useless_ to the team if it goes further.”

“I think you’re _jealous_, Eita-kun,” Tendou quips back immediately, before any of the other teammates could come to their kouhai’s defense. “When’s the last time a cute girl wanted _your_ number?”

“Didn’t she refuse your number, Tendou?” Ushijima speaks up out of nowhere, his eyes still trained on his book. Ohira is in charge of keeping him from walking into walls or students.

“Wakatoshi-kun,” Tendou makes a wounded sound as the captain finally lifts his head. “You didn’t need to remind me! Besides, I’ll get her number eventually!”

Ushijima eyes him evenly. “_Why?_”

“_Yeah_, Tendou,” Semi adds on, throwing their guess blocker a sharp, suspicious look. “Why do you want _Goshiki’s girlfriend’s_ number?”

“You just said Goshiki didn’t have a chance,” Yamagata laughs at Semi, who turns his glare to their libero.

Tendou sighs loudly, slouching over until his body is one long drooping line of exasperation. “I just think Natsu seems _fun_,” he bemoans to Ohira. “It’s not often you meet a girl who’s not drooling over Wakatoshi or shaking like a leaf! When she talked about those soccer stats from Shiratorizawa—it almost made me want to see a game that wasn’t volleyball!”

Ushijima looks up from his book long enough to stare at Tendou. His expression is smooth, but they can all tell their ace is appalled.

“_Wakatoshi-kun_, don’t look at me like that!” Tendou whines. “It’s not like I’m quitting volleyball, _jeez_. What’s wrong with wanting to support our nicest kouhai? Lots of people to watch _our_ matches.”

“Ask Goshiki,” Kawanishi suggest curtly, packing up his belongings. “If it doesn’t interfere with practice, I would like to watch a game too.”

The third years gape at their resident ginger, even more shocked that he’s speaking up than they were with Ushijima. Kawanishi hardly _ever_ interacts with them, not even with Tendou, so to see him of all people to show some interest was a point in Hinata Natsu’s favor.

“Must be the ginger connection,” Yamagata laughs, staring at the second year curiously. “I think Kawanishi has become a big brother.”

Kawanishi doesn’t even look at him, but Tendou guffaws loudly as they walk down the hallway, a glint of amusement in his eyes. “Is _that_ why you were so cold to me, Taichi-kun? I swear, I would be a perfect gentleman to Natsu!”

“Hey, don’t do that,” Yunohama admonishes the redhead, shooting him a disapproving look. “Goshiki-kun must really like her to bring her to our table, don’t scare her away.”

“Scare her? I just said I’d make a _good_ boyfriend, Yuno-kun,” Tendou objects, throwing his hands up. “Why do you all seem to think I have bad intentions? I’m just teasing, like I always do!”

“You’ve never teased a first year over a girlfriend,” Yamagata muses, shrugging his shoulders. To his knowledge, the volleyball team was close, but they didn't butt into each other's personal lives that far off the court. “She’s just as new as Goshiki-kun, so you should probably tone it down a bit.”

“That’s true, you’ve never teased like this,” Ohira realizes, tapping his lip in thought. “It feels a bit different, for some reason. I don’t mind when you tease us or our opponents, but I’d feel bad if we upset Hinata-san. I don’t know what it is about her.”

“None of us hang out with girls outside of class,” Ushijima cuts straight to the meat of the issue with a flat expression as always. “That is why it’s different.”

He blinks, vaguely startled when he realizes all the regulars on his team are glaring at him. “What?”

* * *

After school, Natsu dives head first into her first soccer practice, doing everything she can to show the coach she’s earned her position on the field. Goshiki’s company really helped to fire her up for practice, and it seemed like she’s done the same for him by the excited look he wore when they parted ways. Natsu runs hard, hyper-focused on her footwork, her positioning, her passing. They have a brutal forty-five minute scrimmage at the end, pitting Natsu and other younger players against the older starting roster. They have a few upperclassmen on their team, and they manage to hold together long enough for the final score to be a solid 1-1, but it’s painfully obvious that the captain’s team dominated the field. A full ninety minutes and Natsu’s white-shirt team would have crumbled under the pressure.

By the end of practice Natsu’s entire body is vibrating with energy, exhaustion, and a good amount of lactic acid build up. It doesn’t make sense, but Natsu thinks she ought to run more laps or something because if she stands still for too long she’ll drop like a fruit fly.

If only she’d ridden her bike to school. Biking up the mountains to get home would do wonders for her excess energy. She’d stay longer to run around the track again, but the buses only run so late and it would probably cause her mother and Shouyou to worry. Natsu drags herself onto the bus instead as night fully overtakes the sky. Natsu flips open her phone, checking for messages.

Shouyou’s last message was hours ago, from sometime after school had ended, but Natsu’s eyes widen as she goes through the absurd wall of texts her brother has sent. Her battery is at fifteen percent from all the excess buzzing, even though she hadn’t responded to a single message throughout practice. Apparently Shouyou was pretty much kicked off Karasuno's team from the start, and he was now formulating a plan to redeem himself? That, and the King of the Court, Kageyama Tobio was also at Karasuno. Shouyou doesn’t explicitly state why he’s been banned from the gym, but Natsu gets the impression it has to do with the mean setter from Kitagawa.

“Oh Shouyou,” Natsu sighed, leaning back into her seat and closing her phone, “You always have more fun than me.”

Her cell phone buzzes again after a moment, and Natsu finds a new message, this time from Goshiki.

_ **Hinata, we have our first practice match at the end of the month. I would really like you to come and cheer me on!** _

Another text comes in before she can respond.

** _**Cheer US on! As a team. All of the team. They like you a lot._ **

* * *

Tendou hovers over the wing spiker’s shoulder, just close enough to read the texts between him and Hinata Natsu. “_Nice cover,_ Tsutomu-kun,” he hums, offering the first year an innocent smile when he whips around towards the middle blocker. “You know we usually get _actual_ cheerleaders at our matches? You don’t need to ask Natsu to become one.”

“I–I’m not telling her to be a _cheerleader_,” Goshiki flounders, running a hand through his sweaty hair and leaving his severe bowl-cut in total disarray again.

“Hm, she’d be adorable in the outfit though, wouldn’t she?” Tendou says, rather ruthlessly stripping away what was left of Goshiki’s composure. He doesn’t even seem to believe what he’s saying himself, but says it just to prod the young wing spiker into a blushing mess.

“Yes! No!” Goshiki thinks he’s sweating again. Tendou arches an eyebrow. Extra practice has just ended, and Goshiki should be cleaning up the gym, but he wanted to contact Hinata before it was too late in the day for her to respond. “Yamagata-senpai said it would be fine to invite her to watch us,” he adds defensively. “Just to watch. Not like a cheerleader. Everyone said they liked her.”

Tendou holds up his hands reassuringly. “We do, we do…” His eyes lower knowingly. “I’d really like to see my cute little kouhai celebrate my blocks, it would really encourage me in a match. Even better, she could sit on the bench, pass me towels…”

Goshiki’s face falls.

“...basically, I’d love a manager, ne?” Tendou finishes, eyeing his kouhai for his reaction. The first year is slowly catching onto the gentle reprimand the middle blocker is trying to convey. “Maybe just a fangirl. You know who knows all about admirers? Wakatoshi-kun.”

“Yes, Tendou?” Ushijima looks up from his stretches, as usual only listening after his name is called.

“Nothing,” Goshiki frowns at the two of them, brow furrowing in consternation. “Why are you telling me all this, Tendou-senpai? She’s not a fangirl, you have a point, but… I think Hinata would like to see a match. We talked all day about soccer and volleyball! I want her to see me play, what’s wrong with that?”

“Oh, you’re talking about the girl you like,” Ushijima surmises, walking over to the two of them. Goshiki blushes, and nervously begins to chug water. Tendou bites his tongue, wondering if he’ll finish the whole bottle in one go if he’s not interrupted.

“Slow down, Goshiki,” Ohira interrupts, and Tendou sticks out his tongue. Spoilsport.

Goshiki gasps for breath, shooting his senpai pleading looks as Ohira pats his back. “Was I being rude to her? I just want to be friends, I don’t think of her as an admirer, she was just so supportive and nice and didn’t get mad when I kind of yelled at her while looking for the gym!” He says it all in one breath, face still pink, and when no one has anything to say, continues to dig his hole. “I know we just met and all, but I’m really excited to be her friend. Is that weird? It’s weird, isn’t it? She probably thinks I want something from her now, like Tendou-senpai says, but I just want her to see I’m not all talk when I say I want to be the next ace—”

“Someone shut him up,” Semi grumbles, returning from the storage closet with a harsher scowl than usual.

“Wait, you just met her today?” An odd expression crosses Shirabu’s face before he holds up a towel to wipe some sweat from his brow. “I thought she went to junior high with you. Goshiki, you talk about her like she’s a childhood friend.”

“I–I do?” the first year says weakly, eyes rounded and wide. “No, she helped me find the gym this morning, and then it turned out we’re in the same class… So it is weird, isn’t it?” He concludes in dismay. “I’ve never been friends with a girl before, but Hinata is so easy to talk to. She doesn’t get bored, or shy, or annoyed with me. I don’t want to lose that.”

Semi rolls his eyes, and smacks Tendou out of the blue. “Don’t take this idiot seriously, Goshiki,” he says to the first year. “Tendou just likes to mess with people. Nobody here cares about your friend unless she interferes with our practice.”

Poor Goshiki looks like he’s been slapped in the face. Yamagata groans in exasperation, a towel around his damp neck. “Semi doesn’t mean it like that,” he tells the wing spiker, aggrieved. “You’re allowed to have friends outside of the team, girl or boy. But don’t use Hinata to inflate your own ego, and don’t let yourself be distracted looking for applause. That’s all.”

Yamagata’s eyes flit around the room in wonder, privately trying to figure out when and why they all became so invested in this particular kouhai’s personal life. Personally, it hit his ego hard when Ushijima called them all out for not being close to any girls. Not that they even have _time_ for girlfriends to begin with, but it embittered the third years all the same. Tendou’s warning wasn’t unfounded—all the girls that showed interest in the volleyball team were _fangirls_, and the support was nice, but it didn’t make them friends to any of the players.

Properly deflated, Goshiki gives a stiff nod. “Yes, senpai!” He barks at the libero, which gets a chuckle out of his teammates.

Just then, there’s a ring from his phone, making Goshiki jump. “She responded!” He yelps, trying to swallow his heart before it hops right out of his throat. He flips open his cellphone.

“So? What did she say?” Ohira voices his interest first. Unconsciously, the regulars huddle around Goshiki to peer at the illuminated screen.

✨ **Cool,** I’**ll try to make it!** ✨💖🎉🥳✌️✨the message reads. The more interesting thing is the sparkles, heart, and party-face emojis that surround her words. Another text appears just after it. 

**✨ Ahhhh can’t talk now, my phone’s dying!** 😟😟🏃🏃🌱**✨**

Goshiki (and most of the team over his shoulder) stares at the colorful message. Worried-face emojis, a sprinting figure, and an inexplicable little green sprout. 

“What the _hell_. Even her _texts_ are cute?” Of all people, it’s Semi that says this. Though, as if to offset his words, the setter is kind of glaring at Goshiki’s phone.

Yamagata snorts as the group begins to shuffle off to the locker room to change. “So you _do_ think she’s cute?”

Semi slaps the libero's head while Goshiki stares at his screen in a daze. It _is_ cute, but more importantly he can.. feel the emotion in her words? It's as if she were right there in the gym, pointing to her ‘twig-like thighs’ in reference to this morning. Normals texts aren't so loud. “Maybe this is just how girls text,” He suggests, fascinated.

“What are all those pictures?” Ushijima asks, blinking at the message and thoroughly derailing them all. “Is that a plant?”

“Waka_toshi_-kun, I send you emojis all the _time_,” Tendou protests, drawing out his name dramatically.

“Only the faces and the volleyball one.” Their captain argues, turning away to pack up his belongings.

“I think the seedling is a mis-type,” Ohira says helpfully. “She’s trying to get home before her phone runs out of battery.”

“Not a typo,” Goshiki says quietly, cheeks flaming. The third years turn to him expectantly. “It’s, uh, a joke? About how she runs? She’s been saying she wants to increase her stamina and get stronger so her legs don’t snap like twigs. There’s no twig symbol, but I think that’s what it means.”

The volleyball team stares at him. It’s only been a day, and they have _inside jokes?_ Yamagata’s mouth falls open. “Goshiki, how the hell are you _this good_ at talking to girls?”

“I–I’m not!” The first year squeaks, shoving his phone away. “I told you, I’ve never been friends with a girl! Hinata is just really easy-going?”

“This is unacceptable behavior,” Tendou sings from his place at the edge of the row of lockers, greatly entertained by his kouhai if nothing else, “Share your secrets with your senpai, Tsutomu-kun, before you put us all to shame for being girlfriend-less!”

(Kawanishi pointedly avoids eye contact with everyone, though only Ohira notices this discrepancy. He’ll interrogate the second year later.)

“H-Hinata is not my girlfriend!” Goshiki declares again, blushing furiously as he tries to pack up quickly and escape. “Please stop saying she is!”

“Or _what_,” Shirabu deadpans, “She’ll break up with you?”

“Shirabu-san! Not you too!”

* * *

pic: (note that I drew Natsu too smol in this but whatever)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the record, there's no plot for this story. There's just an overarching theme of 'The Hinatas are adorable' and that's it. I've been focusing on the Shiratorizawa boys for now, but I'll get to new characters and other schools in time.


	5. teenage drama, I

“Haah? You’re friends with the Shiratorizawa _volleyball team?!_” Shouyou demands, and there’s no mistaking the betrayal in his eyes. “Natsu, how could you sink so low?”

Patiently, Natsu rolls up the math worksheet she’s been filling out, and promptly smacks Shouyou in the face with it. He lets out a strangled yelp and knocks over an empty glass. “Stop being dramatic, little brother. I just met the team. I’m only friends with Goshiki-kun.”

“But they want you to go to their _games!”_ Shouyou throws back at her, sticking out his tongue at the casual jab at his height. Shouyou is the older sibling, but Natsu’s still taller than him. “What are you, their _cheerleader?_”

“Am I _your_ cheerleader? I’m going to watch your games too, dummy,” She challenges him right back, unrolling her paper. They should be going to bed soon, but Natsu had to share her first day with Shouyou, and she wanted to know how her brother was faring at his school. “You’d like Goshiki anyway, he’s just as fired up about becoming an ace.” She fights a smirk. “He’s probably a better spiker than you, though.” Shouyou scowls, but knows better than to protest. Natsu’s been needling him for years—and her insults aren’t nearly as infuriating as that Glasses jerk, _Tsukishima_. “How’s your volleyball team? Are you even _on_ it?”

“Ah, I _will_ be,” Shouyou sighs. “Kageyama and I just have to… _work together._” He gives a shudder, like he’s being asked to handle slimy fish. “I’ll get there. I have a good feeling about this team.”

She sinks down a little. “Well, that makes one of us. The soccer club’s so… divided. And I guess that’s fine when we’re not playing, but I feel like some players have biases about who they’ll pass to, and who’s plays they’ll run. Isn’t that awful?”

“It _is_ awful!” Shouyou cries. “How can you even function like that, without any trust? I thought the Academy was the best in the league.”

“I don’t know, sheer force? The third years are brutal,” Natsu shakes her head. “Our captain’s pretty well-respected, but the goalkeeper seems to have the most power. She’s so, _so_ tall. And muscular, like our personal brick wall. She could snap you into two,” she insists, rather too wonderstruck for Shouyou’s taste about such violence.

“I didn’t need to know that,” Shouyou quivers, clutching at his torso like that would hold it together against Aone Yui (It wouldn’t). “So the third years scare everyone into working together?!”

She picks up a pillow and curls herself around it, thoughtful. “Kind of? And, the coach drills us on specific formations and plays.”

“Natsu,” he leans forward emphatically, “That’s _crazy_.”

“That’s Shiratorizawa,” she shrugs, clutching the pillow harder. Her hand twists into the fabric as if she could claim her dream if she just held on for long enough. “When I’m captain, though… things will be different. _Better_. I want a team that’s greater than the sum of their parts.”

Shouyou hums in fervent agreement, and quickly reaches over to ruffle up her damp hair. “I can’t wait to see it, little sister.” She blows a raspberry at him for calling her ‘little’, but secretly, she’s glad to have her brother’s support.

* * *

A few days later, Natsu slides into her seat in the classroom with a mournful sigh, drawing Goshiki’s attention. “Good morning, Hinata-san. How was practice?”

“Good morning, practice was fine,” Natsu rests her head between her arms on the desk, facing Goshiki. “Oh, I can’t go to your practice game at the end of the month.”

“Oh,” he blinks, sinking a bit. “That’s alright.”

“I’m sorry, I’m really excited for you too,” Natsu continues earnestly. “But my brother’s game is the same day, and I don’t want to miss that one,” she admits. Shouyou’s _really_ looking forward to playing against Aobajousai for some reason. “But there’ll be other matches, right? And the Inter High tournament, if it’s not at the same time as my league games?”

Goshiki nods enthusiastically. “Yeah, don’t worry about it! A-and I’d like to see one of _your_ matches too, eventually—but we have all year! Yeah,” he says agreeably. Natsu is grateful for his understanding.

“I’m glad,” she sighs, letting her eyes flutter shut for a moment. A long moment. She rode a bike to Shiratorizawa today, and practice was tough.

Tsutomu stares as Hinata’s face goes slack, mouth parted and squished against the crook of her elbow. Her shoulders rise and fall in long, slow breaths. Natsu is naturally slim and short, especially when Tsutomu stands next to her, but now that she’s fallen into a light nap, she looks even smaller and gentler. _Oh_, Tsutomu thinks abruptly, _so that’s what the team was talking about._ Hinata has such a shining and confident personality, it wasn’t easy to imagine her to be, in any shape or form, a delicate person. And she’s not delicate, not even right now. But she certainly looks soft and cute.

“Um. Hinata-san.” Tsutomu blinks, tucking away his thoughts for another time. “Oi. _Hinata_, you can’t sleep now, we have class.”

“Five minutes…”

“The bell’s about to go off,” he whispers, nudging her arm. “Open your eyes! I don’t want you to get in trouble. Hinata….” Also, he feels a bit awkward staring at her sleeping face for so long.

“Urghh,” Natsu drags her head up, scrubbing at her eyes. “Fiiiine. You’re too nice, Goshiki,” she complains. “Or maybe too _mean_, I don’t know.”

“I’m nice!” He laughs quietly, fiddling with his pencil. The teacher walks in, and their conversation is paused for the rest of the morning. Goshiki tries to pay attention in class, and he does take some decent notes and raise his hand a few times. He’s working hard to keep up in this school, and as much as he’d like to talk with Natsu for longer, it can wait.

Still, when the lunch bell goes off, Goshiki picks up right where they left off, casting Natsu a curious look. “By the way, Hinata-san. You have a brother?”

“Mm,” is all Natsu says, still a bit sleepy. Tsutomu suspects she did extra work outs today. “He chose to go to Karasuno for high school, before that we always stuck together in schools and clubs. He’s a volleyball nerd like you,” she adds teasingly, eyeing Goshiki.

“Is that why you tried volleyball in junior high?” Goshiki guesses as they walk to lunch. As Natsu nods, about to explain further, an older girl stops them in the hallway.

“Hello, Goshiki-kun,” the girl he’s never met greets him, and then turns to Natsu. “Hinata-chan, won’t you sit with us today?” She asks brazenly, as though it’s more of a demand than a request. The girl has short blonde hair and very long eyelashes behind her glasses…

“Oh, hello Aimi-san,” Natsu realizes belatedly. The second year looks different with glasses and her hair down. “Um…” She glances at Goshiki.

“Oh no, Hinata-san, go ahead! I’ll sit with Ohira-senpai,” he answers her unspoken question, stepping back with a bright, untroubled smile. “I’ll see you in class.”

He doesn’t actually give her a chance to speak before he’s gone. If he’d waited a moment, or protested at all, he’d have seen the consternation on Natsu’s face and realized she really doesn’t have any particular interest in sitting with Aimi. Natsu has never spoken to Aimi directly before, only knowing her through bits and pieces of loud conversations in the locker room, so she’s not even sure what brought on such an invitation.

Goshiki doesn’t see the gleam in Aimi’s eyes, or the sharp angle of her smile. Natsu plasters on her own grin, wearing it like a shield. “Thanks for inviting me, Aimi-san.”

“Oh, call me Aimi-chan,” the girl corrects her sweetly, leading her to a table on the far corner of the room.

Natsu has a bad feeling about this.

* * *

Tendou is the first to notice, as the nosiest and most talkative of the team. He scans over Goshiki curiously, raising one eyebrow as he takes a seat at their table alone for the first time. “Tsutomu-kun, your girlfriend’s not sitting with us today?”

Goshiki pouts as a few other players lift their heads at Tendou’s comment. “Hinata and I are just friends. She’s eating with her teammate today,” he explains, rather subdued. Ohira and Yamagata exchange looks.

“That’s a good thing, isn’t it?” Ohira points out delicately. “She was worried about getting along with her team,” he recalls. Not that Hinata’s worries make any sense. She’s so sociable with the volleyball team, with whom she has nothing in common with, so Ohira is certain she’ll make friends just as quickly with the soccer players.

“Yeah,” Goshiki agrees reluctantly, chewing on his food slowly.

“Don’t tell me you miss her _already_,” Semi shakes his head at the first year. “You spend all your classes with her.”

Goshiki pouts even harder. “You all like her too,” he says defensively, though he doesn’t actually deny what Semi is suggesting. “Plus, she said she can’t come to our match because she’s going to her _brother’s_ volleyball game at Karasuno.”

Yamagata huffs a laugh. “Wait, she has an actual brother? _Kawanishi_, did you know?”

Kawanishi eats his curry serenely, not deigning to answer. Classic Kawanishi.

(He rarely talks to Natsu, of course he didn’t know.)

“Karasuno hasn’t had a good volleyball team in years,” Ohira muses, surprised. “Old Ukai retired too. And they’re not a big enough school to hand out sports scholarships.”

“So her brother _sucks_ at volleyball,” Tendou surmises ruthlessly. “That’s too bad. You think Natsu-kun will be mad if we crush her brother’s team during Inter-High?”

Goshiki’s eyes widen. “I didn’t even think of that… She didn’t say much about him, to be honest. Have you guys played against a Hinata at Karasuno before?”

“Nope!” Tendou chirps. “Guess he’s not a starter. I’d remember that hair.”

“Her brother might not be a ginger,” Yamagata points out, eyeing Kawanishi again. The second year continues to eat in silence, blatantly refusing to join the conversation. Soon, their discussion turns to more familiar territory, like Tendou and Yamagata’s running bet on whether their punishments (because there’s always punishments) will be dives or serves this afternoon, and they all, collectively, choose to overlook the small, Hinata-sized hole in their congregation.

* * *

Natsu sits among a small group of first and second year girls. Only two are on the soccer team, and the rest of them are a collection of Student Council reps, journalism club members, and a short girl that works with horses. Natsu desperately wants to know more about the horses kept on campus—who wouldn’t?—but Aimi and an editor named Sakura seem to dominate the conversation.

The conversation which is about boys, and how Natsu needs to spill all the details she knows about the players on the volleyball team. The first year girl pokes at the food on her plate, perturbed at the questions directed at her.

“Well,” she begins haltingly, and the girls lean in. “Tendou-senpai…”

“Yes?” They prompt her impatiently.

“He serves _really_ well in their practices, like, _no-hit aces_, but he’s so erratic in games that they bring in a pinch server instead,” Natsu admits frankly, picking at her rice. The girls deflate around her like old balloons. “You probably know that if you’ve watched their games, but it really frustrates Ohira-senpai. Ohira-senpai practically takes notes on all his teammates, and he _hates_ it when they don’t reach their full potential when it really matters—”

“_Hinata_, that’s not what I meant,” Aimi cuts in abruptly.

“Huh?”

“What do you _know_ about them?” She repeats emphatically. “Like, what kind of sweets does Ushiwaka like? Is Taichi dating that basketball player or not? Is Goshiki a good kisser?”

Natsu’s eyes widen. “I can’t ask them _that_,” she stammers in horror. Goshiki especially would die of embarrassment (as would Natsu) if she ever did. “That’s so _rude_, I mean—well, I can ask Ushijima-senpai about sweets, I guess,” she concedes that point dubiously, though, because Ushijima didn’t seem like he would eat anything so frivolous and unrelated to his volleyball health as mochi or ohagi.

“And Taichi-chan?” Aimi asks again with hawk-like eyes.

Natsu squints. “Who…?”

“_Kawanishi_ Taichi, is he dating the basketball player?”

“I’ve never asked…?” Maybe Aimi had feelings for Kawanishi-san, she certainly seemed invested enough in his love life. But she doesn’t really look embarrassed or shy like most girls would be about their crushes.

“What about Goshiki-kun?” Sakura presses, her eyes glimmering with suspicion. “C’mon Hinanta-chan, give us something. We’re curious about the new starter.”

Natsu’s mouth falls open in surprise. “Goshiki-kun is a _starter_ now?” She gasps in delight. “That’s great news, Sakura-san! How did you find out so _quickly?_ You must be a talented journalist, do you know who he replaced? Or, no, he didn’t replace anyone, the spot was between him and Sagae-kun, wasn’t it…”

“Hinata, _stop playing dumb_,” someone snaps, making her jump in her seat. “Give us something _juicy_, you’ve been getting the royal treatment from the volleyball team all week!”

Well, she can’t quite argue with that. She was the only non-volleyball-player that sat at their table, after all. Natsu casts the girls a sheepish look. “They were all really nice about letting me tag along,” she admits guiltily. “It must’ve looked weird from the outside.”

Aimi makes a face. It’s not a nice face, she shouldn’t do that, Aimi has a naturally very pretty face. “Just tell us already, Hinata-chan, stop beating around the bush, it’s no _fun_.” She leans on one arm with a sharp look. “I won’t _press_ you about it, but we were all looking forward to what you’d say.”

“What I’d say… ” Natsu blinks at her, a knot coiling in her gut, “...about the volleyball team?” And it occurs to her, finally, that most of her experience with Aimi-san is her giggling voice in the locker room and her endless supply of school news she spreads around to her teammates. The journalist students, the student council reps—everyone at this table is interested in the same sort of news, aren’t they?

Suddenly, the reason she’d felt so strange about joining Aimi snaps into focus. She’s not any more welcome at a group like this than she was with a bunch of super-tall volleyball players. In fact, she might be even more out of place than before, because they don’t even care about their own club activities.

As the disappointment grows on Aimi’s face, Natsu’s own heart sinks.

She really isn’t that great at making friends, not the way Shouyou is. Her tongue feels like lead in her mouth, and Natsu fixes Aimi-san with a careful, neutral look. “I don’t know what you mean. Sorry.” And she plasters on a nice, full smile, but no matter what Natsu does she knows it doesn’t reach her eyes.

* * *

The next day, as their morning classes rolls to an end, Natsu looks up at Goshiki with a nice, full smile and says, “I’m going to the field today to work on my penalty kicks, I’ll see you after lunch!” And if her smile still doesn’t quite reach her eyes, Goshiki doesn’t notice it.

* * *

“Has she broken up with you _already?_” Yamagata teases Goshiki as he sits down, yet again, alone. It’s the fourth day in a row that Natsu’s declined to stick around for lunch.

But Goshiki’s expression is curiously _unsettled_, rather than downright mopey. He passed by Aimi-san on the way to their table, and something about the blond girl’s tone of voice and muffled laughter felt wrong.

Anyone else on the volleyball team would’ve brushed off the daily goings-on of his classmates. They were all so focused on their individual goals, on their work together as a team, there wasn’t much else that the volleyball players talked about when they sat down for lunch, and there weren’t even many friends they had outside of their sport. They talked about new drills and interesting news in Volleyball Monthly, they talked about Washijo’s thick rural accent and Aobajousai’s ridiculously popular setter.

Except this is _Goshiki_, and he’s never been one to settle into his appointed role (nor is he aware there’s even a role he’s supposed to play in the hierarchy of high school and volleyball), so he blurts out, “I think Hinata’s having some trouble with her team, but I don’t know how to help her with it.”

And because this is Goshiki, everyone sort of _expected_ this interruption to begin with, just as they’ve figured out how to roll with Hinata Natsu’s unlikely camaraderie, so really, there’s nothing left to be surprised about.

Ohira, parental and obliging as always, is the first to investigate. “What kind of trouble?”

“I don’t know. But this second year girl, Aimi, asked her to lunch the other day, but now Hinata doesn’t sit anywhere, she just goes to the soccer field for more practice.” His brow scrunches in distress. “She doesn’t need _more_ practice, she’s not lagging behind or anything, it’s like she just doesn’t want to _talk_ to anyone anymore…”

“I see,” Ohira frowns thoughtfully. Goshiki might be onto something here, that didn’t sound like Hinata at all.

“Did you say Aimi-san?” Shirabu interrupts tersely. “The blond girl in class four?”

“I—yes? Do you know her?” Goshiki blinks owlishly at the setter, and then at Kawanishi, who’s also listening with an atypical sour look. “What is it?”

“She’s a nice girl,” Shirabu says in a strained voice, “But she’s very, ah, nosy. Too nosy.”

Out of nowhere, their other second year started speaks up. “Keep Hinata away from that snake,” Kawanishi advises bluntly. And then he packs up and leaves lunch early, all dramatic and silent while Goshiki squawks his confusion.


	6. big brothers

“I’m home!” Shouyou calls out quietly, toeing off his sneakers. He slides open the door to his room and sees movement in the dark from the corner of his eye. “Uwaaah!” He shrieks, jumping backwards into the doorframe.

Natsu stares back at him in the dark, flopped over on his futon. “Welcome home nii-san,” she says mechanically, curling further into his blanket.

Shouyou tosses his book bag aside with a huff, clutching at his chest. “_Nacchan_, you’re gonna give me a heart attack. Why are you waiting in the… dark…?” His eyes narrow as he speaks, finally making out the details of her puffy, red face. Shouyou’s breath catches in his throat, shocked. “What happened?”

His sister makes a strange, high-pitched sound beneath three layers of bedding. “_I don’t wanna talk about it._” Well. She says that, yet she’s in his room, on his bed, crying on his old plushy and generally making it pretty darn obvious that there’s something pretty serious going on with her.

Shouyou crouches in front of the futon, resting his chin in his hands. “You’ve been acting off all week! You know you have to tell me, or you’ll explode.”

He knows Natsu. They work on the same wavelength. Even if she doesn’t want to admit what’s wrong, Hinatas can only bottle things up for so long. Like a well-shaken soda, Natsu bursts.

“I have no friends! My senpai is _awful_! I just want to get along with everyone but I _can’t!_”

Shouyou slumps onto the ground, his legs giving out. Down the hall, their father yells at them for being too loud. They call out their apologies and Natsu slumps into his pillows.

“What happened to Goshiki and his team? They sounded nice.” Shouyou watches her carefully, full prepared to sprint to Shiratorizawa tomorrow morning to fight their volleyball team. Maybe he could convince Kageyama to come with him, but no, Kageyama’s too dumb to understand the nuances of friendship and brotherly duty. If he’s really nice to Tsukishima, maybe he could get Glasses to give them intimidating looks.

“They _are_ nice,” Natsu assures him plaintively, “But they’re—well, they’re the _boys’ volleyball team_,” she explains in a defeated tone.

He waits for her to say something more, but his sister just looks at her knees. “_And??”_

“And nothing, Shou,” Natsu sniffles.

“But then they _are_ your friends,” Shouyou replies, confused. “You get along with them. They like you. Even the third years, you said.”

“I can’t keep _tagging along_ with a bunch of boys all day!” Natsu cries out, frustration leaking into her tone. “People make assumptions, people _talk_, and I don’t want to cause a fuss for them.”

Shouyou stares at her. “What people?” He presses. “Someone’s starting rumors?”

“My teammate invited me to lunch with her friends,” Natsu explains softly, “But all she does is gossip, and she comes up with awful stuff about everyone. She keeps asking me tons of questions about Goshiki’s team and—I just don’t belong _anywhere_, Shou, I don’t like those teammates, but if I go back to sitting with Goshiki she’ll just ask more questions and I—” She abruptly smashes her face into a pillow and screams. “I don’t belong with a bunch of volleyball players either! As much as I like them, I’m not_ one of them_, and I want to be_ one of them_ for the soccer team, but _not_ like Aimi-san, but I don’t know _how_.”

As much as Shouyou can relate to Natsu… he has no idea what she’s talking about anymore. “Nacchan,” he huffs, setting a hand on her head. “Stop _thinking_ so much.”

“Hah?”

He ruffles her hair further, until she makes a high-pitched noise of distress and pushes him off. “Shouyou, I’m _serious_!”

“So am I!”

“You don’t _get_ it,” she pouts. “You make friends so _easily_, Shouyou, but girls are different.”

Well, he has no argument there. Most girls terrify Shouyou. “Then be friends with the volleyball team. As much as it pains me to see my sister _betray_ Karasuno—”

“I don’t even _go_ to Karasuno—”

“If you’re happy hanging out with Goshiki, just _do_ it,” Shouyou declares honestly.

Natsu frowns, still uncertain. “But Aimi-san—”

“This Aimi seems like a bully,” Shouyou crosses his arms, face screwed up in concentration. Natsu pouts. Sure, Aimi was a little persistent when they spoke, and had a bad habit of cornering people in locker rooms and bathrooms to get answers, but that wasn’t _bullying_, right? Natsu figured out how to avoid her pretty quickly anyway. “Is she a third year?” Shouyou adds.

“Second year,” Natsu huffs. “And a _regular_ on the team.”

“But she’s not the team. It’s _one_ person. The _whole_ team doesn’t gossip, right?” If they do, Shouyou won’t know what to say, girls beyond his sister can be so strange.

Thankfully, Natsu shakes her head. “No, most of them are pretty serious about playing. But I don’t know… I’m not like _you_, Shouyou.”

He scrunches up his nose. “You keep saying that like it’s a bad thing.” Natsu opens her mouth to argue, but he keeps talking. “Nacchan, you don’t have to be like me. You _shouldn’t_ be like me—out of the two of us, who got a scholarship to go play at their dream high school?”

“Me.” She huffs, not seeing his point.

“_Correct!_ Who’s at the top of their class, who’s played the most minutes out of all the players on their junior high school soccer team?”

“Me, but that’s not a good comparison—”

“_Correct!_” Shouyou talks over her. “Who’s Hinata Natsu, faster midfielder this side of the mountain, totally unafraid of girly gossip and best friends with the terrible no-good Shiratorizawa volleyball team?!”

Natsu bursts into laughter, covering her face. “_Shouyou_—”

“Ahh!” He makes a big X with his arms. “_Incorrect!_ I’m Shouyou, you’re _Natsu_, and you’re going to be just fine!”

“But Shouyou—”

“_Incorrect again!_” Shouyou whips the pillow out from her lap and smacks her over the head. Natsu shrieks, and hurls the blanket at him. Blinded, she nails him in the side with a plushie. “Uwahh! You play dirty!” He yanks the blanket away and tackles her.

Natsu gets her leg up and heaves him away. “You started it!” She punctuates her yell with another pillow.

The door to Shouyou’s room slams open, revealing an irate mother with dreadful bedhead. “Shoyou! Natsu! _Go to sleep!_”

They both give her guilty looks, quickly pulling the bedding back into place with their heads lowered. Natsu hands him the last pillow that had landed somewhere in the corner of the room, and Shouyou accepts it with a beaming grin. “Nacchan, anyone would be lucky to be your friend. But it might take time. I’m still not friends with Yamaguchi and Tsukishima—or even Kageyama—but I _want_ to be, and I’m going to keep trying until we all get along. If you _decide_ that you won’t make friends, then you _won’t_ make friends.” Shouyou pauses. “That makes sense, right?”

Natsu puffs out her cheeks. “For once, I think it does.”

“Great!” Shouyou pumps a fist in the air. “Hey, wait!”

“Good night, Shouyou!” Natsu slides the door shut to block the pillow he hurls at her.

* * *

Kawanishi Taichi is a peaceful guy. Really. But he has no intentions of peace or polite conversation when he walks into a different second-year class that morning.

“Kunitake-san,” he says cooly. The blonde girl sneers up at him, but there’s a glimmer of worry in her eyes. They’re in the middle of the classroom, after all, and Kunitake Aimi is very particular about the sort of attention she wants from others. Shirabu is in her homeroom this year, and he watches the two of them like a hawk.

“Taichi-kun,” she begins, overly familiar. “How’s volleyball going?”

He ignores her question “You’re bothering our kouhai. Why.”

Her eyes go wide and round. “Hm? I don’t know what you mean—”

“If you’re fishing for more gossip, it needs to stop.” There’s no other way for him to talk to Kunitake at this point. She twists every word to her liking, and Taichi is tired of it. “Hinata doesn’t know you well, but I do.”

Kunitake laughs, shrill and uneasy. “That’s so rude, Taichi-kun,” she replies, her face frozen in a stiff smile. “You’re talking about Hinata-chan? Besides—do _you_ really know _her?_ You should be _grateful_ she’s quit trying to worm her way into your team, it was so _embarrassing_ to watch—”

“You’re relentless,” Taichi hisses. “It’s sad. Don’t deny it, you’re harassing her. Just like you harassed Furihata last year, and spread rumors about Moriyama, and all the other ridiculous things you’ve pulled. Just stop.”

“I’ll stop if you go out with me,” She replies quickly, eyes bright. Taichi recoils. Her grin returns. “Ne, you can’t really care _that_ much about Hinata. This was just an excuse to see me, wasn’t it?”

“Kunitake-san,” he says loudly, eyes blazing. “My answer hasn’t changed from the last time you asked.” Her smile drops. “I want nothing to do with you.”

He turns away swiftly, making for the door and ignoring the gasps and murmurs of the students around him. He can hear Aimi’s quavering tone as she answer some other students. He probably made her cry, but Taichi doesn’t care. 

Shirabu catches up to him in the hallway.

“That was overkill, Kawanishi-kun.”

Taichi looks straight ahead, and asks patiently, “Was it?”

“She’s hiding in the bathroom now, everyone’s gonna be talking about this for a long time…” Shirabu mutters. “Hinata didn’t even _say_ anything about her, we just know what Goshiki knows.”

“We know Kunitake, don’t we?” Taichi replies brusquely, before slowing to a stop.

“What’s this really about?” The setter asks quietly. “I didn’t even know Aimi had a crush on you.”

That doesn’t surprise Taichi. Kunitake was careful about what she let others know about herself, and it was an embarrassing fact that she’d been rejected twice already by a regular on the volleyball team. Taichi wasn’t the kind of person to spread around rumors of what had started out as a private confession, but as it turns out, Kunitake is terribly petty. “Doesn’t matter, I never liked her.”

“Still, it looks kinda bad—”

Taichi gives him a look of warning, and Shirabu stops. “I meant everything I said to her. She sticks her nose in other people’s business, and I hate it. Isn’t that reason enough?”

Shirabu slumps. “...Yeah, I guess so.”

“My business is my own.”

“Yeah, I get it,” Shirabu rolls his eyes. “I won’t ask. Happy?”

Taichi rolls his eyes right back, and that’s the end of it.

Or he thinks it is, until Shirabu asks, “Don’t you think she’ll just take it out on Hinata now?” Taichi frowns. “We should at least _warn_ her or something..." He's probably remembering Moriyama, a girl who quit the photography club and had a public meltdown after getting overwhelmed by Kunitake's ridiculous rumor mill. 

Taichi nods. “_You_ should,” he agrees.

“Yeah... Wait, _me?_” the setter yelps. "I don't—this is all _your_ fault, Kawani—" It so happens that Taichi’s right outside his homeroom class, so he promptly steps inside and closes the door in Shirabu’s surprised face.

* * *

Of all the people to stand outside Natsu’s classroom before homeroom starts, of all the people to usher her to an empty hallway to talk privately, she never thought it would be _Shirabu Kenjirou._

“...Good morning,” Natsu blinks at him, a little tired from early practice. Though the volleyball team has morning practices as well, Shirabu looks unreasonably bright-eyed and alert.

“Hinata,” he greets her stiffly, not quite frowning with his mouth, but a little divot has formed between his eyebrows that belies his discomposure. He opens his mouth to speak, but no words come out.

Natsu is equally speechless. She’s never talked to Shirabu directly at lunch, and he hasn’t shown much interest in talking to her either. “Is everything okay?” She asks eventually. “Class is starting soon.”

The second year seems to shake himself out of a deep thought. “_No_, actually. That’s why I’m here… about Kunitake Aimi.”

Natsu’s face drops at hearing her teammates’s name. Which is a terrible reaction, but she can’t help it. After talking with Shouyou, Natsu had decided she would seek out friendships with the rest of her teammates regardless of what Aimi-san did about it, but that wasn’t quite a solution to the frustrating gossip the second year was eager to spread. Sooner or later, Natsu would have to explain to Goshiki what was going on, but she hadn’t gotten that far for Shirabu to be asking about Natsu’s teammate.

“Aimi-san. She’s our left wingback. What about her?” Natsu asks neutrally.

Shirabu grimaces, rubbing the back of his neck. “Kawanishi heard she’s been bothering you,” he begins. Natsu is already confused, because she hasn’t spoken to Kawanishi in over a week. “And I’ve known Aimi for over a year. She can be very petty, so ... not to alarm you, Hinata, but she might be mad at you—”

“_Haah?_”

“—because Kawanishi pissed her off.”

Natsu stares at Shirabu, uncomprehendingly. “_Kawanishi_-san picked a fight with _Aimi_-san?” Maybe she seemed a little upset around Aimi, but she hadn’t told anyone that except Shouyou. “I… never _said_ she was bothering me…”

“Wasn’t she?” Shirabu looks at her with wide eyes, suddenly concerned he has his information wrong.

“Ah,” Natsu looks away briskly, her mouth pressing into a thin line, “It’s _different_. She’s my teammate, so…” The setter eyes her shrewdly. Being teammates isn’t an excuse for Aimi’s behavior, but it pains Natsu to admit she’s having trouble. It wasn’t really _trouble_ anyway, just the worry that Aimi would spread the wrong information if Natsu wasn’t careful. “I don’t want to make a fuss.”

“So she _has_ been harassing you,” He surmises quietly. Natsu doesn’t meet his eye, but hears Shirabu sigh. “At least Kawanishi spotted it.”

Her hands ball up into fists at her side. “What does Kawanishi-san have to do with it, anyway?”

Shirabu blinks. “He confronted her about the gossip. _Again_.” His gaze softens. “You’re not the only one Aimi has hounded for rumors. She basically bullied a girl out of the photography club over some group project last year. And Kawanishi… well, he doesn’t get along with Aimi.”

Natsu winces. “She asks a lot of questions about Kawanishi. About a _lot_ of you, actually…” She looks away. “That’s part of why I stopped having lunch with you all. And I can’t stand listening to Aimi and her friends talk about other people, so I just... wouldn’t sit with anyone at all.”

There’s silence for a long moment.

“..._Hinata_,” Shirabu says finally, and Natsu reluctantly meets his gaze. Shirabu looks terribly unhappy, and it’s _exactly_ the kind of fuss she wanted to avoid. “You shouldn’t have to deal with that. I wish Goshiki noticed sooner. Or any of us.”

She shakes her head again, tugging on a lock of hair sheepishly. “How would you? I was avoiding everyone.” And besides, Natsu didn’t want anyone solving her problems. If anything, it seems like Kawanishi made it worse by talking to Aimi himself… Natsu wonders what Kawanishi-san looks like when he’s mad? He’s such a quiet student, it’s hard to imagine him pissing anyone off.

“Are you still avoiding us?” Shirabu asks pointedly, drawing her out of her thoughts. Natsu looks at him in surprise, and the second year hesitates before continuing. “You said Aimi was only part of the reason you weren’t sitting with me—and Goshiki and everyone.”

Natsu stares at the setter, quietly astonished by his question. Again, of all the people to confront her, she didn’t think it would be Shirabu Kenjirou to worry about their friendship. He was so serious and sharp with everyone, even his teammates. But he did come all this way to warn her about Aimi.

Her mouth curls upward into a small smile. “I like hanging out with you and your team,” Natsu confesses truthfully. “Maybe not _every_ day, but I already feel like it’s been too long since we’ve talked, ne?”

“Mm,” Shirabu is decidedly not looking at her anymore. Natsu eyes him curiously. _Aw, he almost seems embarrassed_. As if catching her thought, Shirabu clicks his tongue and adds, “Goshiki won’t say it, but he misses you.”

“Ah,” Natsu agrees, trying not to grin too widely. “_Goshiki_, right.” Shirabu’s eyes narrow.

The warning bell rings, startling them both. “I’ll be on my way then,” the second year states quickly, stepping back.

“I’ll see you later, Shirabu-san,” Natsu laughs as he walks away. His ears are pink.

* * *

Goshiki approaches his team at lunch with a thousand-watt smile. “Good afternoon, everyone!” He greets them, and before anyone can even respond, he steps aside to reveal the tiny ginger trailing behind him. “Hinata is back!”

Tendou, sitting on the closer side of the table today, leans over the back of his chair, stretching out like a languid cat until he’s looking at the two first years upside-down. “_Natsu_-kun, what took you so long?”

She stares down at him, snickering. It’s so strange to have to look _down_ to see Tendou. “Hi, Tendou-senpai,” she greets him without answering the question. "Did you miss me?"

“It’s good to see you,” Ohira nods.

The guess blocker pulls himself back up. “Tsutomu-kun missed you!”

“Senpai,” Goshiki whines, scooting over his chair for Natsu. “I wasn’t the _only_ one that missed you,” he says stubbornly to her.

“I know,” Natsu giggles, pointedly not glancing at Shirabu. The setter makes a disgruntled noise around the carton of milk he’s drinking.

“Oi, Tendou, how’d you do on the math quiz?” Yamagata asks from across the table. “I swear, our teacher didn’t cover the chapter properly, it was so confusing.”

“Or _you_ didn’t cover the chapter,” Tendou lilts, resting his chin on one hand. “I got a _90_.”

“Hah?!” Yamagata gapes as Ohira congratulates Tendou politely. “No way, you failed the last one. Did you get a tutor? You totally got a tutor. Who is it?”

The guess blocker begins humming a strange tune, looking away from Yamagata to scroll through a manga on his phone. “Hey, is anyone else caught up with _The Promised Neverland_?”

“Don’t ignore me!” Yamagata howls, tossing a napkin at him.

“I’m serious!” Tendou pouts. “It’s really good, I don’t know why people don’t read it!”

“No one reads manga anymore, we’re too busy,” Shirabu rolls his eyes.

Sagae Yuushou, another first year, straightens up. “I read _Kimetsu no Yaiba_,” he argues lightly. “I’ve missed the last two chapters, though, so no spoilers.”

Natsu leans past Goshiki to look at Tendou. “Isn’t _The Promised Neverland_ scary?? I only watched the anime, it gave me and my brother nightmares. I keep thinking I look like Emma now.”

The third year laughs. “You _do_ look like her, how cute! But the anime only gets to the second arc, the manga’s much further ahead! Did you catch the hints through the library books…” Suddenly Tendou is speaking a lot more to her than usual, and the tidal wave of chatter aimed her way stuns Natsu. She knew he liked manga because he was always scrolling through something on his phone, but Natsu had no idea he could talk so much about it. She does her best to keep up.

“You’ve made a huge mistake, Hinata,” Yamagata murmurs to her. “Now he _really_ won’t shut up.”

“I’m unfriending all of you,” Tendou declares, pointing his chopsticks. “Except Natsu and Yuushou-kun. The rest of you can _rot_.” He lifts his head to the boy sitting next to Yamagata. “Kai-kun, you can stay if you admit you don’t like Hayato’s hairstyle.”

Akakura Kai flounders, his mouth still full of noodles. “Don’f _do_ this ag’ainf!” He complains, like this is a recurring argument between the players. Natsu finds herself looking more closely at Yamagata, particularly how much gel he’s using to spike up his hair.

The libero notices, unfortunately, and glowers at Tendou. “My hair is _fine_, Tendou, you ass—”

But Tendou Satori is in a very good mood today, and cranks up the heckling with a careless smirk. “Are you getting styling tips from Eita-kun again?”

Semi pauses mid-bite. For a moment there’s a look of genuine distress on his face before it twists with annoyance. “_Why_, Tendou? What’s _wrong_ with the way I dress??”

As Tendou opens his mouth to make the situation worse, Natsu feels a tap on her shoulder. She pulls her gaze away from the mounting argument between the boys and sees her fake ginger twin leaning over from behind Tendou’s seat to reach her. “Kawanishi-san,” she greets him quietly. She considers asking him about what happened between him and Aimi, but decides against it. Instead she just smiles. “It’s good to see you.”

He hesitates for a brief second, as if surprised that’s all she has to say. Then his expression softens out of the tight frown he usually wears, and he nods. “Welcome back.”


	7. girls, I

Three weeks into her first semester, Natsu’s team ends their afternoon practice with a full-team scrimmage. This time around, the teams are divided evenly with starters and second-string players on both sides. Natsu’s on the same team as Utsugi, the captain, and the vice captain leads the other side.

The captain’s team has more offensive power, but they haven’t been able to score yet; every attempt has been snuffed out, either by defenders or the terrifying vice captain, and it’s infuriating. Her team’s getting antsy for another shot on goal. Even the captain looks annoyed as she barks orders to the offense, preparing for a corner kick. Their last two kicks had been snatched up by the keeper, and all of them wanted to avoid it happening it again.

The thing is, _Natsu_ wants to be the one taking the corner kick. She’s asked the captain twice in a row now, and has been shut down both times, because her kicks aren’t hard enough. But Natsu knows how to do corner kicks—they don’t just need power, they need finesse. _Accuracy_. If she could practice with the run patterns of her teammates, Natsu _knows_ she could handle it.

For now, she has to settle for being one of the runners. She can do this too. Hell, she might even score, though their chances are slim against the vice captain.

Utsugi raises her hand and lets it drop, signaling them to make runs. The ball is played onto the field, higher than anticipated—not _too_ high, though, it deflects off someone’s leg—

Natsu _jumps_.

In the seconds before her head connects with the ball—_forehead, hit it with your forehead, don’t break your face_—a shadow loomed in the peripheral of Natsu’s vision.

There’s a _thud_ from the ball hitting her forehead, and then a _thunk_ from a face hitting the back of her head.

She yelps as she falls, off-balance, landing in a heap on the grass. Her legs are tangled with someone else’s. Natsu looks back, and nearly faints.

Aone Yui is a third year, the vice captain, and their first-string goalkeeper. She’s 183 centimeters tall and built like a sculpted marble statue, severe and larger-than-life. She’s so sturdy and stoic, the team looks up to her both literally and mentally for her steady support.

Seeing her bleed and blink in confusion is more than a little surreal.

_I did that._

A few girls squeal in horror, Natsu included. “D-D-Did I b-brea-ak y-your _no-ose??_” She wails.

The goalkeeper wipes her face, dumbfounded by the bright red streak it leaves on her sleeve. “Hm.” Is all she says, pulling off her keeper’s gloves as more players gather around, alternating between screaming and worrying over the two of them. Natsu is pulled to her feet, and someone prods at her hair, pointing out the swollen lump forming on her head.

“What?!” Natsu feels the lump herself, shocked.

Utsugi jogs over, glaring at everyone. “All of you, shut up!” She snaps. “Hinata, go with Aone to the nurse. _Hirao_!” She bellows, and across the field, a first year leaps off the bench. “Get over here, you’re subbed in.”

“_Oi_,” Aone growls. “It’s not broken, I can keep playing.” Utsugi’s gaze is razor-sharp.

“You’re not allowed to _bleed_ on the pitch,” the captain snaps, as if she’s angry at Aone herself for getting injured. Then she glares at Natsu, which makes more sense since _she’s_ the one that injured Aone. “_Yokoyama!_ Get the fuck over here, you’re on my team!” Natsu deflates, but doesn't argue.

The two girls on the bench scramble to warm up as Aone and Natsu leave the field. Someone passes Aone a towel to mop up the blood on her face.

Her head throbs a bit, but it’s shock that holds Natsu in a daze. They were just _practicing_, how could it all go so wrong? All she wanted was to play a good game.

“A-Aone-senpai, do you feel dizzy? Even if your nose isn’t broken, you could have a concussion,” Natsu warbles, clinging to the hem of the girl’s shirt and eyes watering. “Please forgive me, I should’ve been thinking about where you’d be when I jumped…” The tall girl waves away Natsu’s concerns, her platinum hair swishing in a sleek fishtail braid behind her head.

“Just Aone,” the keeper says thickly, speaking through the hand towel over her face. Her eyes dart to Natsu’s face expectantly.

“I don’t think I’m concussed either,” she reassures Aone, somehow understanding what’s being asked. She wipes away any errant tears. “It wasn’t a hard hit.” The keeper dips her head in a singular, slow nod, conveying her silent agreement with Natsu’s assessment.

When they get to the infirmary, they’re not the only ones there. The nurse looks up and clucks her tongue in annoyance at Aone, and Natsu’s eyes slide past her to the boy sitting on the raised bench, holding an ice pack to his face.

“_Semi-senpai_,” Natsu blinks in surprise, which quickly morphs into horror at the blossoming bruise over his cheek. She almost cries all over again, seeing another strong player injured. “Uwaah! What _happened_ to you? _Are you okay?”_

Semi, the gray-haired volleyball player that always looked a little angry, flicks his eyes over the sight of her and Aone. His expression shifts to shock. “Jeez, _Hinata_, did you two get into a fight?”

Aone gives a single shake of her head, and Natsu flushes, mortified at the very thought. “Of course not! It was just a bad collision, we went for the same ball,” she explains mournfully, wiping her tearful face yet again as the nurse ushers Aone aside to clean her nose. Natsu takes a tentative seat beside the volleyball team’s setter.

“Me too,” Semi replies sourly, picking up another ice pack and handing it to her. “I dove to save a ball and hit Yamagata.” He looks at her for a second and, seeing the worry in her eyes, adds, “He wasn’t hurt, and I don’t have a concussion.”

“That’s good, I’m glad,” she sighs, holding the ice pack against the back of her head and grimacing. “Aone got the worst of it.... I shouldn’t have even _been_ in the box,” Natsu gripes, unable to help herself from speaking. Now that the pain has dulled and her worst fears assuaged, all that’s left is her own frustration. “If I’d been taking the corner kick, like I _should_ be, I wouldn’t have been anywhere near Aone, and she wouldn’t have been pulled from the scrimmage. But now I’ve botched up a _set piece_.” Natsu laments, slapping a hand over her face. She’ll get stuck on near-post guard now, which is barely ever useful. “I _know_ I can do better, but I’ll _never_ get the chance to prove it.”

She has nothing against Utsugi as a captain, but Natsu is going to burst from frustration if things don't change soon. She's _good_, she can be even _better_, but Utsugi is too focused on what she knows to consider trying things differently. Natsu is fast, but she's not suited to right wing like Utsugi insists—Natsu likes the _center_, even if it means going up against larger players, and she can _handle_ it,_ I know I can handle it, but no one will let me prove it_—

“This is your first year,” Semi says suddenly. Natsu jolts a little, craning her head up. She hadn’t even been sure he was paying any attention to her. He still has a sour expression on his face as usual, but his gaze on her is neutral. “I don’t really know how the game works, but you have the next three years on this team to prove yourself, Hinata.”

“Maybe,” she murmurs tiredly. “Or maybe I’ll be second-string my whole life. Or _worse_, I’ll get the position I want and no one will pass to me, and I’ll _still_ be dead weight.”

“Slow down,” the volleyball player orders abruptly, leveling Natsu with a real glare this time. “Keep thinking that far ahead and you’ll start planning your own retirement.” He looks away, but the irritation remains on his face as if it’s turning inward, brewing up some turmoil of his own.

Natsu doesn’t have Shouyou’s instincts when it comes to knowing what’s wrong, and isn’t so bold to think she has the answers he needs. Instead she accepts the brisk words with a huff of agreement. “Sorry, Semi-senpai. You’re right.”

“Drop the senpai,” he mutters, eyes trained at his knee pads. “I don’t care for it.”

That can’t be strictly true, Natsu figures, because Goshiki always refers to the third years as ‘senpai’. But Aone Yui and Semi Eita are both level-headed and skilled upperclassmen, and Natsu likes the idea of becoming proper friends with each of them.

“Thank you, Semi,” she tells him softly, “I appreciate you listening. And…” Natsu takes her eye off him, roaming over the health posters on the wall across from them instead. “I’ll listen too, if there’s ever something on your mind.”

Semi doesn’t answer, but the silence between them doesn’t feel uneasy. She’s seen the setter snap at his own teammates over lunch a few times—if he was offended by her, Natsu is sure he would’ve voiced it.

Aone returns, her nose and left cheek reddened but clean, and waits patiently for the nurse to check Natsu for a concussion. Semi and Aone exchange a few quiet, polite words as Natus gets a penlight shone in her eyes and answers more questions about the pain and her memory. Thankfully, the knock to her head really does look worse than it actually is. Natsu chews her lip as the nurse collects another ice pack for Aone.

“Aone, I’m _so_ sorry about hitting you. I should’ve let you get the ball…”

But the third year holds up a hand to stop her. “_Good goal_, Hinata.”

Good goal? _What?_

Natsu’s jaw drops. The keeper’s face is stern, but there’s humor in her eyes. “Aone, y-you can’t count that! Oh my god. _Did they count that?_” It was just a practice game between teammates, but the underclassmen rarely scored on their goalkeeper. Hell, _no one_ scored on their goalkeeper. “You can’t be serious.”

“No foul,” Aone points out, unfazed.

“They blew the whistle!” Natsu insists, flummoxed. “It was a—a dangerous play!”

Aone shakes her head. They called a timeout to get Aone off the field once they realized she was bleeding, as it was regulation, but hadn’t penalized Natsu for the collision. A ‘dangerous play’ would’ve been nullified her goal, if the referee had called it. “No foul,” the goalkeeper repeats steadily. “It _counts_.”

Natsu is still gaping as Aone walks away to the sink, picking at her shirt and turning on the faucet.

Semi taps her knee with his pointer finger to get her attention. “Sounds like you won. Good job.”

“Ha,” She rubs her neck nervously. “Thanks, but I don’t know if the _captain_ sees it that way.”

Aone grumbles. "Don't worry about Rumi, she's just a hardass." Natsu nearly chokes on her own spit, and Semi covers his mouth to muffle the sound of his snorting laughter. Aone shoots Natsu another stern look before returning to the task at hand. She dabs at the bloodstains fruitlessly, unable to clean it out entirely.

“Um. You should try baking soda when you get home,” Natsu suggests softly, shifting the ice pack over her scalp. The shirt stain isn’t much different from the awkward blood stains Natsu dealt with on bedsheets and clothes when she first hit puberty. “A-and run it under cold water, that usually works. If not, I use hydrogen peroxide, but that might leave bleach stains so you have to be careful with it.”

Aone nods thankfully, walking to the door, and Natsu hops off the bench to receive a new ice pack from the nurse. She catches Semi giving her a quizzical look, and raises her eyebrows.

“Uh. Why do you know so much about cleaning _bloodstains_?” Semi frowns, seeming almost alarmed. “That’s not common knowledge.”

“_Ah_,” Natsu give a short laugh, but Semi looks like he’s waiting for a serious answer. Natsu definitely does not want to bring this up with a boy, not a handsome third year, so she skirts around the issue. “Well, uh, most girls get some experience with that,” she says weakly, color rushing to her cheeks.

“What?” Semi gives her a blank look. “_Why?_”

She should make up an excuse to save them both, but her mind is filling with white noise. If only he could take the hint. Natsu inches towards the exit, red as a tomato, and offers a half-hearted shrug. “Biology,” she blurts out, and darts out the door before he can say any more.

She bumps into Aone’s back on her way out, and the keeper stares down at her with polite concern._ "_Please, Hinata, don’t make a habit of colliding with me."

“I’m sorry,” Natsu blurts out, “It won’t happen again! Since I was in the box I thought I had to make a run, I should’ve stayed out for any rebounds instead, I didn’t mean to—“

“_Hinata_,” Aone’s voice is soft and high, quite the contradiction from her austere demeanor. The keeper actually needs to shout a lot during practice games in order to direct her defense and the midfielders, but it’s always in a rough, bellowing sort of tone. Her speaking voice is much gentler, even if she's blunt with her opinions. She lifts a large hand and lays it on the crown of Natsu’s head, ruffling her orange curls. “Good jump. Good goal.”

Nothing more needs to be said, because Aone’s message goes beyond words. There’s a certainty in her flinty gaze, one that tells Natsu _Keep doing what you’re doing, I’ll support you._

And Natsu feels her heart swell.

* * *

Semi Eita stares at the empty doorway, still concerned. What did Hinata mean by _that?_ Was it because girls were prone to injuries? Was it… gender roles, like girls doing more cleaning tasks or taking on caretaker roles? Did they get injured more often? That’s messed up.

It haunts Eita all the way back to the gym, twisting his expression even more than usual as he performs 50 extra serves for missing practice time. Hinata had looked so _flustered_ by his question, and he has no idea _why_.

Finally, at the end of their practice after he’s changed out of his sweaty clothes and stuffed his knee pads into his bag, he has the _worst epiphany ever._ Eita stops dead in his tracks outside of the gym, feeling his face heat up in regret and embarrassment and a small bit of genuine revulsion.

Girls. Blood. _Biology_.

“Oh, _god_,” he moans, slapping a hand over his face. Fuck, _ow_, his cheek still hurts.

All around him, his teammates jolt at his outburst. “Is something wrong, Semi?” Ohira asks in concern. “Does your face still hurt?”

“He’s _blushing_.” Shirabu, that insufferable second year, sounds far too giddy.

“_Nothing_,” Eita snaps, brushing off Ohira’s hand on his shoulder. “I just—I’m an idiot.” He’ll never be able to look Hinata in the eye again.

“We already knew that,” Shirabu pipes up, and Eita fumes.

“No, no, you _have_ to tell us now!” Tendou skips to his other side, eyes wide. “Eita-kun, I’ve never seen you so _flustered!_ I wonder what did this to you?”

“No one,” Eita refutes too quickly, and Tendou latches onto his misstep like a dog with a bone.

“Eitaaa-kuuuun,” he sings, practically dancing around the setter. The team sends him various looks of sympathy, realizing his fate has been sealed. Shirabu just looks on with a shit-eating grin. “Eita-kun, _Eitaaa-kun._ _Who_ was it that’s got you all flustered? Anyone I _know?_ You were in the infirmary for a while…”

Eita doesn’t meet his eye.

“Ohh? So it _is_ someone I know. _A girl?_” Eita _swears_ he’s not letting it show on his face, but Tendou proves to be surprisingly perceptive off the court. “Hmmm… Who’d be at the infirmary at this hour? Surely another _athlete_. I must say, I don’t know a whole lot of girl athletes.” Eita avoids his eye. Tendou snaps his fingers, like a lightbulb went off in his sadistic mind. He turns around towards the locker room. “_Heeey_, Tsutomu-kun, is Hina—?”

_Of course he fucking guessed it._

“Shut up!” Eita jumps on the guess blocker, slamming a hand over his mouth to physically stop the words from escaping. “Shut up, Tendou, he does _not_ need to know!” He hisses, eyes darting around. There’s Shirabu, Ohira, and Ushijima within earshot of them, and Goshiki seems to be lingering in the locker room for now. But would this group of players out him to the rest of the team? There’s no way _Hinata_ would tell Goshiki, right?

His eyes fall to Shirabu, and he scowls. The longer he deliberates, the more fuss Tendou will make. “I just. I asked Hinata a really stupid question.”

“_Stupid?_” Tendou repeats, unconvinced. His voice is a little muffled through Eita’s hand. “That’s not like you.”

“An _embarrassing_ question,” Eita grits his teeth. “I didn’t realize it. She wouldn’t want me to repeat it, though.” He huffs, sliding his hand off of Tendou’s face. “Seriously, Tendou, don't ask.”

Tendou examines his face for a moment longer, and then backs off, smiling. Shirabu still has his eyes narrowed, but follows Tendou’s direction and does prod him any further. Eita is relieved, for himself and poor Hinata. He’d apologize to her as soon as possible, though he’s not sure he wants to look her in the eye. Eita can't believe it took him so long to connect the dots, but how often does he think about girl anatomy?

Okay, wrong way to phrase it, but still. God damn it. Why him?

“Why was Hinata in the infirmary?” Ohira queries, a small frown of worry on his face. Eita jumps on the opportunity to derail the conversation.

“Ah, she collided with that tall girl in class 3-2,” Eita says, slowly releasing the tension from his shoulders. “When they walked in, I thought they’d gotten into a fight.”

“Oh? I’m in 3-2,” Tendou says curiously. “You mean _Aone Yui-kun?_ She's my favorite classmate." He lowers his voice to a loud whisper and says to Ushijima, "Don't tell Hayato-kun, but she's tutoring me in math.”

Eita nods. “Yeah, it was Aone. The back of Hinata’s head hit Aone’s face,” he explains the ‘corner kick’ situation to the best of his abilities. He had known soccer was a rough sport, but he hadn’t expected the girls’ team to be just as aggressive. 

Tendou cocks his head to one side, surprised. “Yui-kun is _huge_ compared to Natsu, are they both okay?”

“They were both fine in the end,” Eita shrugs. “Aone’s nose was bleeding for a while, actually, but they went back out.”

“Whoa,” Ohira almost looks impressed. “Tendou was right, that’s a scary little kouhai.”

“Tooold youuu! Haven’t you learned by now I’m a _good guesser?_” Tendou calls lyrically. "Ah, my bus is here. Don't go embarrassing yourself again, Semi-Semi!" he advises cheerfully as he slips away, followed closely by Ushijima.

Shirabu parts from the group with a brief farewell, and Ohira claps Eita on the back. "I'm sure it wasn't that bad," he assures him as he leaves. "Good night, Eita!"

"Good night," Eita calls back, ignoring the rest of what Ohira said. He's just thankful none of them know he—accidentally and unintentionally—asked a girl about menstruation. 

* * *

Natsu screams into her pillow that evening, beet red. "_Biology_, why did I say _biology?_"

"Uhh nee-san, are you good?" Shouyou peeks his head through the door.

"_Biology!_" Natsu wails again. "Why did I do that??"

"...Biology?" he repeats, dumbfounded. "Did you fail a quiz or something?"

She lays her face flat against a plushie, ignoring Shouyou's concern. She can never look Semi in the eye again. 


	8. aoba johsai

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> finally, the Karasuno v Aoba Johsai match!

Natsu is looking forward to the end of her practice, for once. Today is Friday, so normal practice ends an hour early. Usually Natsu stays for extra practice, run by Captain Utsugi, but today she declines even though their extra practices are much more interesting than the drills Sameshima has them go through. 

“You’re not staying? I think we’re playing a half-field game today, too!” Hirao Chika, a tall and gangly first year goalkeeper, looks astonished at the thought that Natsu wouldn’t want to keep playing. To be fair, Natsu hasn’t missed a single extra practice since Utsugi started inviting the first-years to them. 

“I can’t,” Natsu pouts, though the thought of a game is tempting. Half-field games were fun skill-based challenges, where players could try out outrageously impractical ball moves without worrying as much about losing the ball. Natsu was still learning all the names, as a lot of moves were named after the foreigners that first popularized them, and Natsu wanted to know all of them. 

Alas, not today. “I promised to watch my brother’s match, his team is playing Aoba Johsai,” Natsu explains. 

“Aoba Johsai?” Yokoyama, another first year, tilts her head in befuddlement. “I didn’t know they even had a soccer team, they’re not in our league.”

“They might have a boys’ team,” Hirao suggests, tapping her chin in consideration.

“No, no,” Natsu laughs. “Shouyou plays _volleyball_, not soccer.”

She’s met with several shouts of confusion and dismay. “You’re leaving us for more _volleyball?_” Hirao cries. “If you like _volleyball_ so much, why do you play _soccer?”_

“Hey!” Natsu exclaims, offended. “I can like more than one sport! But I’m a soccer player through and through!”

Yokoyama blows a raspberry at her. “Boo, you’re a traitor,” she jests. “You even sit with _Ushijima_, Nacchan!”

“Well, it’s not like _our_ team sits together,” Natsu points out insistently. She’s felt this way for a while, but she’s never had to opportunity to bring it up to her teammates properly. “If I could sit with all our senpais, I _would_, but I think Utsugi would kill me!” Yokoyama gives her a contemplative look. Natsu heaves her sports bag over her shoulder with a deep sigh. “I gotta go—good luck playing against Utsugi without your best midfielder!”

“That’s _bold_,” Ariyoshi says dryly, taking a long pull from her water bottle. “I’m telling Nakajima you said that.”

Nakajima Emi, their starting center midfielder (whom Natsu is lowkey trying to usurp). She’s quite similar to Utsugi, all things considered. “Uwahh!” Natsu panics, holding up her hands beseechingly. “Please don’t! She’ll _definitely_ break my legs!”

“Don’t you have a bus to catch?” Hirao points out. 

“Yes! Ariyoshi—please—!” She stammers out to her teammates.

“Run, Hinata,” Ariyoshi advises her imperiously, eyes flashing. Natsu sprints.

* * *

Natsu makes it to Seijou early and feels a little out of place. She’s changed into her casual clothes, jeans and a jacket emblazoned with the logo of the Urawa Red Diamonds, which doesn’t stand out as much as her school uniform probably would, but it’s obvious she’s here as a visitor, not a student. Still, Natsu skips up to the front desk to sign in. The secretary looks particularly frazzled, in the middle of a phone call, and scribbles out a visitor’s pass with sharp lines and a pinched frown on her face.

“Thank you,” Natsu says carefully, placing the badge on her jacket.

“Yes, yes, be on your way now,” the secretary makes a shooing motion with her free hand.

“Okay,” she agrees, sensing the woman’s sour mood. “But, wait, where’s the—?“ 

The secretary’s withering glare makes Natsu shut up and hurry on down the corridor. Seijou’s campus was very different from that of Shiratorizawa, but it can’t be that hard to find the gym, right?

Wrong. _So_, so wrong. Natsu quickly finds herself walking in circles, totally lost. She checks her phone for a message from Shouyou, but he doesn’t reply to any of her texts. He might not even be here yet, she didn’t see a visiting bus… 

Resolving to ask a student for help instead, she follows the sound of young voices around the corner. 

“Hello? Excuse me?” Natsu calls out politely, eyes focused on the group of girls passing by. She even waves her arms, but they give no indication that they see her. Instead, a tall upperclassmen takes notice and moves towards Natsu. 

For the briefest moment, she simply gapes at him.

He’s. _Very_ muscular.

“Are you lost?” He asks with a frown. Natsu stiffens a little under his gaze, though all he’s doing is looking over her casual clothing and visitor’s badge with skepticism. He’s darkly tanned and has spiky hair, a bit like Yamagata Hayato, but with angrier eyebrows and bigger biceps. He’s not even in gym clothes but his blazer is almost too tight over his arms, but maybe that’s Natsu’s imagination. 

What is she doing? He’s probably just a third year athlete, she knows like a _dozen_ third years. The only ones she’s sort of afraid of are Aone and Utsugi, because they’re amazing. 

“Y-Yeah,” Natsu admits, diverting her attention from his arms to his face. He doesn’t seem to be in the best of moods, but if he’s an athlete he must know where the gym is. “I’m trying to watch the volleyball practice match with Karasuno? I’m kind of early, though, otherwise I’d just look for my brother.”

He raises an eyebrow, which softens him into looking more intrigued than irritated. “Your brother’s on our team? What’s his name?”

_Our team?_ Natsu’s eyes widen a little. “He’s on Karasuno’s team, actually,” Natsu corrects the boy hastily, nervously adjusting the strap of her bag so she can hold out a hand. “I’m Hinata, nice to meet you?”

He shakes her hand, looking a little bemused at the formality—Natsu feels the same way, she’s not sure _why_ she chose to do this, and also his hands are _really big_ compared to hers—and then gestures down the hall. “I’m Iwaizumi. I’m headed over there anyway, you can watch from the upper balcony.”

Natsu sighs in relief, quickly following a step behind him. He’s much more polite than she expected. “Thank you, I-Iwaizumi-san. This place is more confusing than I thought.”

“Yeah, it’s a bigger school that Karasuno,” Iwaizumi agrees benignly, but Natsu chews on her lip. 

“I haven’t seen that campus, actually. I don’t go to the same school as my brother,” she tells him tentatively. Iwaizumi glances back at her in question, and Natsu just lifts her sports bag higher for him to see the Shiratorizawa name emblazoned on the side. 

“Oh, _shit_,” he blurts out in surprise, freezing in place. Natsu jolts, taken off guard by his abrupt curse. Iwaizumi’s eyebrows shoot up. “_Crap_, I don’t mean to—sorry, _sorry_, I’m just surprised!”

Her brow furrows in puzzlement.

“Iwa-chan, do you _always_ use such vulgar language around girls?” Someone asks from the edge of the gym. "No wonder you don't have a girlfriend."

_Ouch,_ Natsu thinks sympathetically.

It’s like a switch turned on. Iwaizumi’s face morphs into fury, and he whips around to glare at the speaker. “_Shittykawa!_”

Natsu peeks around Iwaizumi to see another tall student carrying a gym bag, smiling impishly back at them. He’s a bit taller than Iwaizumi, and very handsome with windswept brown hair. “Hey there, has Iwa-chan offended you? I’m very sorry for his brutish ways,” he greets Natsu with a victory sign. 

“Oi, you want a volleyball to the face?” Iwaizumi warns him, a vein bulging at his temple. 

“I, uh—” Natsu stutters, drawing both their eyes. “I don’t mind, I’m not offended,” she promises, glancing at Iwaizumi. Really, he doesn't seem so bad, even if she doesn't know why he cursed so suddenly. 

Iwaizumi folds his arms, inscrutable. “I'm just shocked a _Shiratorizawa_ student would come to one of our practice matches.”

She huffs, about to reiterate that she’s here for her brother, having nothing to do with her own school, but the other volleyball player speaks up first.

“Shiratorizawa?” The brown-haired boy zeroes in on her bag almost immediately. “Oh.” His voice is flat. “You’re from _Ushiwaka’s_ team. They’re sending cute managers to spy on me now?”

Natsu blinks. Managers? _Spying_? Was that a normal thing in volleyball? She doesn't like the look on his face now, even if he is really handsome. “I’m not from Ushijima’s team and I’m not a manager. Why would I—who _are_ you?”

He blinks owlishly back at her. “Eh?” 

Iwaizumi walks up to the boy and gives him a hard smack on the shoulder, making him yelp. “Not _everything_ is about you, Shittykawa.”

“I’m here for Karasuno, like I said,” Natsu says shortly, not liking the way the taller student is talking. “Thank you for showing me where the gym is, Iwaizumi-san, I’ll let you get back to practice—”

“Now, wait just a minute,” The pretty guy protests. “You came _all_ the way from Shiratorizawa, but it’s _not_ about me?”

She looks closely at the older student. He is very handsome, but sort of smug too. Natsu keeps up with Goshiki pretty well when he talks about volleyball, but she’s hardly an expert on the boys’ league. And Seijou doesn’t even have a soccer team, so she really doesn’t know much about this school, or this player for that matter. “Yes?”

“Oh my god,” Iwaizumi murmurs, a delighted expression crossing his face. “You really don’t know who he is. I love this.”

“So mean, Iwa-chan!” The boy cries, stalking closer to Natsu. He doesn’t stop until he’s just a few feet from her, a strange smile fixed in place. He holds out a hand to her. “I’m Oikawa Tooru.”

“H-Hinata Natsu,” she replies, returning the handshake like with Iwaizumi—except instead of shaking her hand, he clasps it gently between his palms and offers her a wide, dazzling grin. This reinforces her first impression of him being ridiculously handsome, and Natsu feels her cheeks redden at the attention.

“_Nacchan_,” he says cheerfully, and Natsu thinks she might combust. It’s one thing to befriend her senpais and hang out with the boys’ team, but it’s a totally different and new thing to _hold hands like this_. Oikawa’s hands are also large and his fingers are oddly elegant despite all the calluses and scratches. She didn’t even _know_ fingers could be elegant. “I look forward to getting to know you.”

“O...kay?” Natsu says helplessly, relieved when he releases her hand. Iwaizumi groans from somewhere behind Oikawa. 

“Are you a first year, Nacchan?”

“...Yes,” she admits cautiously, eyes flickering back to Iwaizumi. “Don’t you have to go?” Natsu points out weakly. "To practice?"

“Ah, I just have to check in with the coach, but I’m more interested in talking to you!” He sounds so nice, but Natsu can’t help but think this feels all very practiced. “So, you’re a Shiratorizawa student? That's too bad. That looks like a club activity bag, are you on the girls’ volleyball team? Why didn't you choose _Seijou?_” He asks the last question emphatically, and Iwaizumi scoffs. She feels like she's being mocked. 

Natsu fidgets with the strap of her bag. “I play soccer for Shiratorizawa. Seijou doesn't even have a club team, so I don't know much about your school.”

“Soccer?” He stares down at her blankly.

“Yeah,” Natsu waits a beat before asking again, “Didn’t you say you have to speak with your coach?”

Oikawa jolts suddenly, and Iwaizumi appears at his back, hauling him away with a firm grip on his collar. He goes from glaring daggers at Oikawa to casting Natsu an apologetic look, and the contrast in his expression is almost comical. Iwaizumi really is very polite, and Natsu appreciates it. “_Yes_, he does. Sorry for this guy’s crappy personality, Hinata-chan,” Iwaizumi says genuinely, giving her a quick bow and forcing Oikawa to do the same.

Oikawa squawks at the insult, but Natsu finds herself holding back a giggle as she bows back. “I don’t mind,” she says again, “That’s why you’re around, ne?”

Iwaizumi and Oikawa both gawk at her, and Natsu worries she’s overstepped with her comment—then Oikawa pouts and Iwaizumi barks with laughter, dragging away the other player with renewed glee. “That’s _exactly_ right, Hinata. Y’here that, Shittykawa? I offset your _shittiness_.”

“How awful. Your horribleness is rubbing off on her,” Oikawa whines. “Quit ruining my reputation, Iwa-chan.”

They disappear into the gym, but Natsu hears Iwaizumi’s parting comment of “_You do that all on your own_,” before they’re completely gone. 

Natsu grins to herself and follows the signs that take her to the upper railing along the side of the indoor court.

* * *

Natsu gets through half an English assignment and all of her math packet before Karasuno arrives and begins their warm ups. She wouldn’t have been so productive if not for Ideguchi, a boy in her class (that was also interested in the horses on their campus, she worked up the nerve to introduce herself after she caught him baby-talking to the ponies in the stable), who texted her pictures of the three formulas she’s supposed to be using in math but didn’t copy down properly in her notes. 

Shouyou doesn’t see her in the upper level when his team enters the gym. His head is constantly swiveling around, trying to take in everything at once. She knew he’d be nervous, but _wow_, her brother is such a spaz sometimes. He disappears out of the gym as quickly as he came before she can call out to him. 

Natsu leans forward, trying to guess which teammate is which, and eventually, one of them spots her—and immediately _scowls_.

“Hinata! What the _hell_ are you doing up there?!” The black-haired boy snaps. A few more eyes turn up to see her.

“What?!” Shouyou squeaks, reappearing in the doorway. Both Natsu and the angry boy—and several more teammates—whip around to look at her brother. 

“What the hell?!” The dark-haired boy, who must be Kageyama, jerks back in shock. “You teleported!” He points and accusatory finger at Shouyou.

“Hah?!” Shouyou cries. “I’m too nervous to teleport, K-Kageyama!”

Natsu slaps a hand over her mouth, but her giggles are loud enough to carry over the court anyway. Kageyama spins around to face her again. 

“Who the hell is that?!” He demands, looking almost frightened. “_Dumbass Hinata_, you have a—a—?”

“A _sister?_” Someone suggests tentatively, looking up at Natsu with wide eyes. Natsu peers back at him and waves, but the boy flushes and turns away. 

“Nacchan!” Shouyou finally registers her presence, leaping to his feet and waving with both hands. “You made it!”

She beams back at him, always put in a better mood after seeing Shouyou. “Why are you surprised?! I said I would!”

“WE HAVE A FAN!” A bald boy hollers, falling to his knees. “_A BEAUTIFUL GIRL FAN!_” A taller boy promptly smacks the back of his head and calls out an apology to her. Natsu doesn’t quite grimace, because she doesn’t want to be rude, but she didn’t like the idea of them treating her like a cheerleader.

“That’s a girl-Hinata?” Kageyama says, dumbfounded. “What the hell is this?”

“That’s my sister!” Shouyou bounces up and down, jittery like the time he drank their father’s coffee out of curiosity. “N-Natsu! You better watch close, w-we’ve got some awesome moves, this is Kageyama!!”

Shouyou’s nervous, but he does better when he doesn’t overthink things, so she doesn’t mention it. “Hi, Kageyama-kun,” Natsu waves pleasantly. “Good luck!”

Kageyama looks like he might faint. So does the bald guy. The boy from earlier, the one with freckles, risks another glance her way. He makes eye contact with her and yelps, hiding behind a very tall blonde teammate. She leans carefully against the railing so she won’t have to shout at them to be heard.

“You two must be Tsukishima and Yamaguchi, right?” Natsu nods to the blonde guy. He’s the only one with glasses, after all. “I’m Hinata Natsu.”

Tsukishima seems startled by her addressing him, eyes darting around. “... I’m Tsukishima,” he confirms, far more subdued than Shouyou has lead her to believe. Is it that strange for her to watch them play?

“_She knows our names!_” The freckled guy, presumably Yamaguchi, whispers loudly to his friend’s shoulder.

“Shut up, Yamaguchi,” Tsukishima mutters back. 

“Do you know _my_ name?!” The bald guy asks desperately. “Hinata, you’ve mentioned me too, right?!”

Natsu bites her lip. “I… don’t know, sorry.” She glances at Tsukishima. “Shouyou complains a lot about you, though.”

Tsukishima gives Shouyou a dirty look, making him yelp in fear.

“Nacchan, _shut it!_” Her brother warns, pointing a threatening finger at her. 

“What’re you gonna do about it?” Natsu grins. “_Serve a ball_ at me?” Like he'd ever hit her, his aim was dreadful. Her eyes flash with amusement. She can’t help but razz him a little bit, after all. He knows she’s teasing. 

Shouyou wails while his teammates snicker at him. “You’re supposed to be here to support meeee!”

“If you receive a ball with your face I’ll try to catch it on video,” she vows, holding up a thumbs up. Shouyou pales, and ducks away to hide his face.

“Hinata, your sister is _brutal_,” Yamaguchi murmurs, slightly awed, slightly pitying.

“She’s much cooler than you,” Tsukishima adds, completely unsympathetic. Natsu thinks she likes those two. 

“I’m Tanaka Ryuunosuke! Please watch me _crush_ Aoba Johsai!” The bald player cries. 

The soccer player huffs. He reminds Natsu of Yamane, one of the strikers on her team who’s constantly harassing classmates to come watch their practices and cheer her on when she scores goals against their reserve goalkeeper. “Um, do your best, Tanaka-san?” Natsu offers halfheartedly. 

Tanaka looks close to tears suddenly grabbing Shouyou by the collar of his shirt. “Hinata!! Where have you been hiding this precious sister all this time?!” Yeah, he’s exactly like Yamane, tears and all. 

Shouyou squawks again, smacking at Tanaka’s hands. “Oi! Don’t inflate her ego anymore, she’s a terror!”

“Nonsense! How could you talk about an _angel_ this way??” Shouyou and Tanaka begin to argue loudly, and a third player gets involved trying to shut them up.

Natsu doesn’t want to yell over the two of them, so she glances at the nearest player, a gray-haired boy with a cute mole beneath his eye, who gives her a polite smile. “I don’t go to Karasuno, otherwise I would’ve said hello sooner,” she explains quietly. “Plus, I have my own practices and games to attend. I play soccer for Shiratorizawa.”

“Oh, I see,” the player says brightly. “That’s an intense school, you must be very skilled.” Natsu beams. He’s like a breath of fresh air after being introduced to Tanaka and the first year players. “I’m Sugawara Koushi by the way, Karasuno’s vice captain.” He takes the time to point out the rest of the players and tell her all their names. 

Natsu scans the group of Karasuno students with a slight frown. “Sugawara-san… does your team not have a libero?” Not that there couldn't be one among the players she sees, but the libero has to wear a different jersey in matches so the referee knows who they are.

His eyes widen in pleasant surprise. “You really know your stuff, huh?” He laughs. “No, we’re… missing a couple of players right now.” Sugawara’s bright energy dims for a moment, before he shakes his head and grins again. “But I’m sure we’ll get by. Our first years seem quite promising, your brother especially.”

She glances back at Shouyou, who’s being reprimanded by his captain and Kageyama, and smiles. “Shouyou has a lot of drive. Good luck handling them all, Sugawara-san,” Natsu teases.

Sugawara chuckles. “So far, they’re worth the trouble.”

* * *

The first set goes _terribly_ for Shouyou. Natsu keeps her mouth decidedly shut, but she does take a secretive picture of Kageyama hovering over Shouyou, smacking the back of his own head with a demonic look on his face. Honestly, she can feel her brother’s utter fear from across the gymnasium. She'd only been joking about Shouyou being _that_ terrible at serving, but he ended up losing the set for Karasuno by hitting a ball directly into his setter. Natsu saves the picture and favorites in on her phone and thinks, _This is for your own good, Shoucchan. One day, you’ll think this is funny._

She sees Iwaizumi on the other side of the court, but Oikawa must’ve left sometime before Karasuno arrived while she was working on her homework. Natsu thought that was weird, since she’d expected Oikawa to be a third year regular too. Iwaizumi catches her looking at him once, and raises a hand in acknowledgement. Natsu waves back, but doesn’t try to talk to him. He was jumping all over the place in the first set, scoring most of Aoba Johsai’s points, and must be tired. 

“Oh, do you know Iwaizumi-san?” A voice asks from her right side. It’s a student from Seijou, leaning against the rail with two girls to watch the match like Natsu.

“Not really,” Natsu confesses, shrugging. “He just helped me find the gym. My brother’s there on Karasuno’s team,” she doesn’t point him out, because she’s heard the Seijou students comment on and off about Karasuno’s #5 and it’s pretty obvious she's related to the hyperactive ginger on the court. 

“Ooh, he’s not doing so well, is he?” The boy says, though his tone makes it hard for Natsu to tell if he’s being sympathetic or mocking. 

Natsu plasters on a smile, regardless. “He’s just getting started.”

In the next set, Natsu finally sees The Quick Attack, capitalization necessary. Shouyou’s attack is _insane_ to watch in person. It goes by in the blink of an eye, and Natsu relishes in the awed sounds of the Seijou students watching. Her brother’s raw athleticism is beginning to pay off, but Natsu isn’t blind—Kageyama is some kind of _beast_ on the volleyball court. That kind of pinpoint accuracy isn’t _normal_. 

Her phone buzzes suddenly, and Natsu waits for the ball to hit the ground before looking at the text. 

** _How’s the match going? We’re playing Kakugawa, won the first set on Semi’s ace serve!!_ **

Natsu raises a critical eyebrow at the message from Goshiki.** 🙌✌That’s great! But are you allowed to have your phone out right now?? 👀🙊**

She follows up with, **Aoba Johsai won the first set, but right now it’s 10 - 09 Karasuno! 💪**

* * *

“Aoba Johsai?” 

The very words have become taboo at Shiratorizawa. Goshiki is the one to say it, peering down at the phone he definitely shouldn’t have out. Eita glances at the first year and groans. It’s obvious to all of them why he’s dawdling on his phone right now, the same way it was obvious he was moping during their warm up—Hinata Natsu was cheering on Karasuno’s team instead of theirs. 

Ushijima appears like a wraith summoned by a restricted spell. The second and third years had watched the weird tension-rivalry-obsession between Ushijima and Oikawa grow over the past two years of playing against Seijou in official matches, but the first years hadn’t been informed yet. “_What about Aoba Johsai?_” He asks calmly, targeting Goshiki like a heat-seeking missile. 

“Hah?” The first year looks up, baffled by the sudden attention. “Sorry, senpai!” He quickly goes to hide his phone behind his back. 

Ushijima just stares back evenly. “Why did you mention Aoba Johsai?”

Goshiki gives him an owlish look. “Um. Well. Hinata?” 

Eita takes a good look at the ace’s face, and quickly assesses Ushijima’s blank expression as him actually drawing a blank. Amazing how oblivious their captain can be. “He means _Natsu-kun_, his girlfriend,” Eita informs the taller boy, making Goshiki splutter at the insinuation. Tendou talks the most to Ushijima out of the whole team, and so Eita figures their captain was more familiar with Tendou's name for the first year girl. “She’s not here because she’s watching Karasuno’s practice match.”

“...So, Karasuno is playing Seijou,” Ushijima surmises, eyes flickering to Goshiki for confirmation.

“Uh, yes, that’s what Natsu-kun—I mean _Hinata_, that’s what Hinata says,” the first year admits, slowly pulling his phone up like a cautious cat, testing what he can get away with. The coaches aren’t looking for now, and the rest of the team won’t squeal on him, so Goshiki turns the screen to Ushijima. “Karasuno is in their second set, looks like.”

Ushijima promptly takes that as an invitation to pluck Goshiki’s phone from his hand to inspect the message himself. “She also says, **Now it’s 18 - 16, Karasuno’s setter is god-tier.** Shocked face.”

Eita snorts loudly. “_Shocked face_.”

“Oh,” Goshiki blinks down at the screen, pressing his lips together. He clearly doesn’t enjoy the fact that Ushijima is looking through his phone but is too afraid to point it out. Eita suspects Ushijima _knows_ it’s inappropriate—he's not _that_ socially inept—and is taking advantage of Goshiki’s hesitance. “Well, she’ll think differently when she finally watches us play!”

“Yes,” Ushijima agrees. Then he types out a message and sends it before Goshiki realizes what’s happened. 

“H-Hey!” The first year yelps, scandalized. “_Senpai_, that’s—”

“Focus, Tsutomu-kun!” Tendou skips over, setting his water bottle aside. “You don’t want the coaches to see that phone out!”

* * *

Natsu’s phone vibrates again as Karasuno inches towards victory. 

_ **Is Oikawa Tooru playing right now?** _

That’s super weird for Goshiki to ask, since she’s never even _heard_ the name Oikawa until today. But in fact, it looks like Karasuno isn’t the only team with missing players. The Seijou students had mentioned both Oikawa and another team member, the Mad Dog, who isn’t on the court today. They mostly seemed concerned over Oikawa’s absence though, so maybe he was something of a big deal after all. He certainly acted like it when she’d spoken with him. 

But then again, Goshiki acted like he was a big deal too, and he’s never grabbed her hands and introduced himself like a movie star. Natsu wonders if all the tall volleyball players have such huge hands to match their frames. Goshiki was pretty tall, almost Oikawa’s height probably. 

**_(Asking for Ushijima-senpai!)_** says the next message, just as the whistle blows and Karasuno takes the second set. Natsu finally replies. 

**Oikawa isn’t here. (Why did Ushijima ask??)** 😮

_ **(I don’t know, so weird!)** _   
_ **Oh snap Washijo saw me I’m** _

Natsu waits a beat, but no further message is received. **Did you die? I did warn you, Goshiki.** 💀⚰️🙏

Still no reply. Karasuno does another group huddle, and she can hear Shouyou’s excited shout as they break for water. 

_**✨Natsu!! ✨**_Ah. Someone else is using Goshiki’s phone. Her friend never uses emojis, or her given name.

** _✨This is your favorite senpai! Our second set is starting, wish us luck!✨🙌_ **

Goshiki’s team is so weird. Natsu can’t help but laugh, and obligingly sends one last message.

**💖🙌Good luck everyone! Tendou, please return the phone :) ✌✌**

The Seijou students along the balcony suddenly start to scream, startling the hell out of Natsu. Or, no, they’re _squealing_, waving hands frantically down at the court. Oikawa Tooru is lazily making his way over to the coach’s bench.

* * *

Tendou swoons dramatically as he tosses Goshiki’s phone into a random gym bag. “Natsu-kun sent me a _heart_, I’m at 120% right now!” He sings as he skips onto the court. Their overeager first year watches the guess blocker, looking mildly betrayed, but he’s been called up onto the court for now and keeps his mouth shut.

Eita would scold them, but then Tendou really _does_ block like four spikes in a row, and _Goshiki_ manages a diagonal attack while they’re in a tight spot, so maybe Natsu’s encouragement did mean something. Personally, Eita may or may not still be reeling over his last conversation with the soccer player, so he’s not so disappointed by her absence. 

From the sidelines, he hears a buzzing noise from one of the bags. It’s Yunohama’s bag, and the second year goes to rifle through his things and finds—of course, Goshiki’s phone. 

“Yuno-kun,” Eita warns, quickly glancing back at the coaches. “Don’t look at it.”

“It was in _my_ bag,” Yunohama reasons, which is no reasoning at all, but he flips open the cellphone and peeks at the next message anyway. “..._Huh_.” 

The reserve members remain quiet, eyes on the court, for all of thirty seconds before Akakura asks, “What’s it say?”

Instead of answering, Yunohama just passes the phone around surreptitiously, and each player takes a look and reacts with varying levels of shock and laughter. When it finally gets passed to Eita, he scowls at his underclassmen but reads the texts anyway.

**😮Oikawa is back. Is he Ushijima’s rival? That would make sense. 👀**

And then a second message, the more recent one. **What a TOOL** 😤😤💢💢

Eita stares. He looks up at the caller ID just to be sure he’s looking at a text from Natsu. Is this really the same kouhai that nearly cried over Eita's stupid injury from practice? Something must have happened to make her speak so negatively of Oikawa this quickly. Eita knew Aoba Johsai's setter was an ass, but what business did he have with Natsu?

**_Are you okay? What did he do?_** Eita texts back, and doesn’t realize how absurd and hypocritical he’s being until Soekawa scoffs next to him. **_This is Semi, btw_**, he adds guiltily. 

❓👋**Hi Semi-san, is everyone reading this now?? 😾❓👋**Hinata replies. Then a second message. **I'm fine. ****Oikawa is** 🙅**Now, get off Goshiki’s phone!** 🚫🚫

Her answer doesn't really explain her strong opinion of Oikawa, but she has a point. Eita shuts the phone and places it back in Goshiki’s bag, resolving to ask her about Oikawa on Monday... meaning he has to look her in the eye... nevermind, he's sure Goshiki can find out for him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't help but remind y'all of the embarrassing plight of Semi Eita... bless him.


	9. team bonding, by ushijima wakatoshi

Yamagata Hayato stares down at his own chicken scratch handwriting with an intensity better suited for Nationals than his lunch break dilemma. He glares at the pencil lines and eraser marks with disdain, sucking on a carton of chocolate milk. No one pays him much attention, assuming he’s trying to study for math. Ever since Tendou refused to reveal his studying tricks that got him a 90 on the last quiz, Hayato’s been in a mood.

“Where’s our littlest kouhai?” Tendou wonders, sitting across from the libero and swinging his head around. “She better give us the inside scoop on Aoba Johsai, otherwise what was the point of her missing our match?”

Reon sighs. “You guys are awful. None of you should have been looking at Tsutomu’s phone in the first place.”

Eita keeps his eyes steadily fixed on his notes from Japanese Lit. He does want to know why Hinata thinks Oikawa Tooru is a tool, but Reon has a point.

“I also want to know her thoughts on the match,” Ushijima replies, utterly shameless. He turns to Ohira. “She confirmed that Oikawa returned to the court at some point. I heard he’s recovering from a minor sprain. Something that would never happen here.”

Ohira shares a helpless look with Soekawa. “Wakatoshi, _please_. You’re obsessed.”

Ushijima simply stares back at Ohira stubbornly, like a cat slowly pushing a vase over while making eye contact with their owner. “I’m _right_. Oikawa should have come to—”

“Hey guys!” Hinata appears between Yamagata and Soekawa, setting her lunch tray down with a flourish. “Goshiki is running late, congrats on beating Kakugawa! They’re pretty tough, huh? Well done!” 

The players thank her with varying levels of enthusiasm. “Natsu-kun,” Ushijima addresses her before she can even sit down, as her eyes linger over Yamagata’s shoulder. 

Hinata snorts. “_Natsu-kun_,” she repeats to herself, astonished. Her eyes land on Tendou for a moment, mildly accusatory. “Is that really gonna catch on?”

The guess blocker gives her a cheeky smile while Ushijima presses onward. “Did you see Oikawa play?“

“Eh?” She looks up from Yamagata’s notes, bewildered. “Oh, not really. He served a few times but it was too late to save the set.” She slides into the seat beside Yamagata. 

“I see.” Ushijima murmurs. “Why do you find him distasteful?”

The first year shoots him a reproachful look. “Man… Goshiki needs to put a passcode on his phone if you’re all gonna be this nosy,” she snipes back, and at least three players can’t make eye contact with her. Ushijima is not one of them. Hinata clicks her tongue, realizing he’s not about to drop the conversation. “Does it_ matter?_ I just don’t like him. He’s really good at volleyball, duh, but as a _person_, he’s—” She makes a so-so gesture with his hand. 

“You _met_ him?” Tendou surmises, eyebrows raised. “You can’t make that kind of judgement from the way someone acts on the court.”

Hinata’s face scrunches up a little. “Yeah, we talked,” she admits with unmistakably reluctance. “He said hello to me when I was looking for the gym. And then we talked again, after he lost to Karasuno.” She looks away from Tendou and Ushijima pointedly, and misses the curious glances exchanged between the third years. 

Eita bites on the inside of his cheek. Oikawa was a hell of a setter, but his reputation went far beyond that. Wasn’t Oikawa _popular_ with girls? Hinata’s aversion seemed less about any sort of loyalty to Karasuno and more of a personal issue. Something swells in Eita then, like a weird protective urge kick-started by the uneasy look on Hinata’s face. Eita is the oldest of four, so it’s not a totally foreign compulsion, but he’s surprised that it’s Hinata of all people to trigger it. He cares a lot about his younger teammates, even the stubborn Shirabu, but none of them made him want to kick Oikawa Tooru’s ass this much. 

“We’ve all met Oikawa before, we know how he can get. What did he say to you, Hinata?” Kawanishi asks, not looking up from his noodles. His voice is deceptively apathetic. Eita would have assumed Taichi was only taking a superficial interest in the conversation, if it weren’t for his iron-like grip on his chopsticks. The whole ‘ginger siblings’ thing may have started out as a joke, but Eita’s known for a while that Kawanishi genuinely looked out for Hinata like a brother would. 

Hinata is too busy stirring curry into her rice to notice this, though. 

“Oh, nothing really,” the girl insists, plastering on a smile. “It’s not that important—ah! _Yamagata-senpai!_” Hinata laughs abruptly, sounding so startled that it draws all their eyes. “Where did you get _that?”_

The libero jolts in his seat, meeting her wide eyes. “What?!” He gasps right back, raising up his notebook. “Hinata-chan, _you_ know what this is?!”

Hinata makes a sound, something between a scream and a gasp, and covers her gaping mouth with a hand. “You—you _don’t_—?” And then she devolves into giggles, bright and bubbly and a total 180 from her attitude about Oikawa Tooru. Either Hayato had something really fascinating on his notebook or Hinata was trying to derail the conversation, but Eita was leaning towards the former. Hinata wasn’t very good at deception. 

She gives the libero a skeptical look. “Ya-Yamagata, oh my goodness—please t-tell me you’re joking!”

“Hah?!” Yamagata looks distressed by her reaction. “I’m not, I’ve been trying to figure it out all morning,” he admits, which just makes Hinata laugh harder. She actually slaps both hands over her mouth so she doesn’t make too much of a scene.

Soekawa subtly takes a peek at the notebook in question, and Yamagata immediately goes on the defensive, pulling the paper up against his chest so no one will see it. The vice captain shoots them a perplexed look. “It’s just a graph, isn’t it? I thought you were doing math homework.”

“Nope!” Hinata chirps, slowly regaining her calm. Her face remains flushed with color from her outburst, though. “I know what I saw, that’s _not_ math.”

“Then what _is_ it?” Yamagata pleads, hesitantly lowering the notebook for everyone to see. “It’s driving me crazy.”

It’s a pencil drawing of a graph. Four arrows pointing in the cardinal directions in a square. Eita’s seen a similar drawing used to explain political groups. In each quadrant, instead of graph points, there are names. Volleyball player names. 

Eita glances at Tendou to see if he gets it, but the redhead looks just as lost as Ohira, Soekawa, and Ushijima. The arrows are labeled with single English letters, and the placement of names seems deliberate in some way. Eita somehow doubts it has anything to do with their volleyball stats.

“Uh….?”

Kawanishi, surprisingly, is the only one to react differently. “_Oh_,” he mumbles, snorting into his hand. “Wow, who made this?”

“Right?” Hinata agrees, delighted. “Someone _really_ likes volleyball players.”

Eita is definitely not the only one reacting to that statement. He stares at the graph harder, as if that’ll reveal its secrets. _Likes_ volleyball players, as in, _like_-like? Or did she mean that in an obsessive kind of way? Or a platonic way? Or a rival-manager-spying-on-us kind of way?

“Hah?” Shirabu looks between the paper and Kawanishi, clearly pissed off that he’s also out of the loop even though his name is on the paper. “What is it? Is it some kind of insult?”

“No,” Hinata answers firmly. “N-not at _all_, I promise.”

“Then what’s it about?” Eita asks, frustrated. His own name is at the very top of the ‘graph’ and even if it’s not outright insulting, of course he wants to know what it means. At the same time, he gets the feeling they'll never know what Oikawa did to upset Hinata. But the strange chart Hayato's been struggling over is very distracting. “Why’s my name on it? Where’d you even get this, Hayato?”

Yamagata sets the paper down thoughtfully, and shuffles his belongings over so Hinata can overlook his ‘work’. “I overheard some classmates say my name, and I looked at what they were writing—I only got a glimpse before they noticed and covered it up, so I couldn’t read everything on it.”

He taps the paper with a small frown. “What’s it mean? Kawanishi?”

“Oh, no,” the second year puts up his hands. “I’m no expert.”

Hinata gives him a dirty look. “Neither am I,” She rolls her eyes, hands folded tightly over her chest. “None of you have seen this before besides Kawanishi-san?”

“Nope!” Tendou chirps, leaning in. “And I feel _very_ left out. Quit leaving us hanging, Natsu-kun, Taichi-kun.”

Hinata’s eyes are fixed to the paper on the table, a contemplative look crossing her face as Yamagata slides it in front of her. “Well, I can’t just leave you all in the dark,” Hinata sighs. She asks Yamagata for his pen and raises her head to make eye contact with all of the students whose names appear on the paper. “Don’t take this too seriously, guys.”

Eita doesn’t like where this is going. Ohira looks worried too. 

Hinata writes on the paper, properly labeling the four arrows. The left arrow says “_Pretty_” and the right arrow says “_Handsome_”. The down arrow says “_Cute_” and the top arrow, where Eita’s name is written, says “_Hot_”.

Eita stares at the graph. It was drawn by a bunch of third-year classmates, according to Yamagata. _“Oh,”_ he mumbled, eyeing Hinata again. She just raises her eyebrows at him, and he’s reminded that she didn’t make the graph, she only labeled it. her ears are kind of red, though. “Someone _does_ like volleyball players, huh.”

“I don’t get it,” Ushijima declares at last, breaking the temporary silence that’s fallen over the table. He points to his name, located farthest down the ‘handsome’ axis. “What determines the difference between these?”

“Don’t _complain_, Wakatoshi-kun,” Tendou scolds him lightly, tilting his head at the page. His own name is in the fourth quadrant, between cute and handsome. “This is _way_ better than what I thought it’d be.”

Hinata laughs again. “Yamane-san told me about it. It's not too serious,” she points out quickly. “But the idea is that if you’re hot, you can’t also be cute. And being handsome isn’t the same as being pretty. So… this.”

Eita can kind of see the appeal of the graph. The choice of where to place a person on the ‘spectrum’ means you have to argue why one person is cute rather than hot, and… well, at least it’s not cute versus _ugly_. He narrows his eyes at the paper. “Hinata?” He eyes the girl curiously. “You’ve never seen one with our names on it before, right?”

“Right,” she confirms. 

“So… how did you know which arrow was which?” Eita points out. Yamagata laughs. 

“Huh?”

Tendou hums with delight. “You figured it out so _quickly_, Natsu-kun! What gave it away?”

The first year stares at Tendou for a while, looking like a deer in headlights. Then her expression smooths over. “You’re just fishing for compliments now,” she declares frankly. “They already were labeled with letters, P for pretty. C for cute, so I knew where to write,” she answers, before looking back at the paper thoughtfully. “If this was drawn up by third years, it makes sense that most of the underclassmen are below the horizontal axis. It’s kind of a maturity thing, like the younger you act the cuter you seem.”

So how old did that make Eita? Was it a _bad_ thing that he’s not cute? He looks at the paper with mistrust. It’s nice and all, _very_ nice, and he can’t help but assume there must be a downside to it.

“Well, that makes sense to me,” Ushijima agrees placidly. “Tendou can be rather immature at times, so therefore he lands between cute and handsome.” Tendou chokes on his food. Ushijima doesn’t even blink. “And Shirabu is especially serious, so it is understandable that he falls into hot territory despite being younger.”

“S-senpai,” Shirabu protests, looking much redder than he’d been at the beginning of this conversation. For once, Eita feels a little bad for the kid. Not too bad, though. This is kind of hilarious. 

“So… What does it mean that I’m close to the center?” Ohira asks, sounding mildly worried. “Doesn’t it mean I’m not _any_ of those things?”

“No, you must be well-rounded,” Ushijima suggests to him. (Hinata nods sagely.) “I think the only insult is if you do not show up at all,” the captain continues, picking up a pen. “We’ll add the rest of the team to this.”

“Eh?” Soekawa stares.“_Why?_”

Ushijima peers back at the vice captain with guileless eyes. “So no one feels left out. We should all be on this anyway.”

If Eita weren’t already gaping he would be now. It’s moments like this that he remembers why they picked Ushijima as their captain. He acts like a brick wall most of the time, but the ace was a good friend to all of them. Maybe the hotness chart started out as a source of gossip, but it looked like Ushijima was commandeering this operation into a team bonding session. 

“_Hell yeah,_” Tendou throws his head back and laughs. Kawanishi chuckles too. “Let’s do Yuno-kun next. He belongs on the cute axis, ne?”

Hinata seems a bit stunned by their response, sharing a silent look of bewilderment with Ohira and Shirabu. “Well, just leave me out of it,” she rolls her eyes. A small smile plays on her lips though. 

“What’re you all doing?” Goshiki skips up to their table with a bright, naive smile. “What’re you filling out?”

Hinata giggles before she can stop herself. “No comment.”

Goshiki looks down at her, surprised to see her look a bit flustered. “Hah?”

Tendou gives Goshiki a contemplative look before turning to Yamagata. “He’s _way_ at the bottom. Below Yuno. _Cute_.”

“I agree. All in favor?” Ushijima asks, raising his hand.

“_Aye_,” Yamagata and Tendou intone. Shirabu hides his face. Kawanishi raises his hand and takes up Shirabu’s wrist so he's agreeing too. 

Eita raises a hand too. Tendou isn’t _wrong_, per say. Hinata takes one look around the table and promptly turns her full attention to her half-eaten lunch like it’s the most fascinating thing in the world.

“Uh,” Goshiki looks around at them, puzzled. He raises his hand too, since everyone else is doing it, and Tendou _howls_ with laughter. “What’s going _on?_ What are we voting on??” 

* * *

pic: 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [the graph](https://grilledsquids.tumblr.com/post/615889243482488832/no-i-dont-accept-criticism) in case the pic doesn't show up!
> 
> (can you tell my bias is semi? love that boy)


	10. heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTICE: there are no Kuroko no Basketball references in this, sorry

Practice begins as usual, and Tsutomu gets down to business like he always does. He focuses as best he can on passing drills, which he’s pretty good at; receiving drills, not his favorite but he gets through it; and finally some spiking drills that he totally crushes at, his line shot is looking great—

“Don’t get cocky, Tsuto-chan!”

“Oi, oi, you think you’re hot shit now, Goshiki?”

“I could see that line shot coming from a mile away, don’t telegraph your spikes so much.”

Each comment is a barb through his heart. It’s something new he’s had to deal with at Shiratorizawa—here, he’s not the best. Here, he’s nowhere near becoming the ace yet. Here, he has at least a dozen cold-hearted or unreadable upperclassmen that will never, ever, praise him without some form of criticism as well.

“Yes sir! I’ll do better next time!” He bows deeply to the coach, who just barks at him to get back in line. 

_Natsu would cheer me on,_ he thinks in consolation. _That’s all the praise I need._ Then Tsutomu admonishes himself. _She’s not a cheerleader! _

Oh, but she’d make an amazing cheerleader. Hinata was so energetic and optimistic, she’d dazzle people with her enthusiasm… 

_SMACK!_

The next thing he knows, he’s reeling backwards right into a teammate, his cheek smarting and eyes watering. There’s a series of sympathetic “_oohh_”s from the surrounding players. 

“TSUTOMU!” Washijo barks. “EYES _OPEN!_”

He groans, carefully pushing off of his teammate to stand on his own. “M’fine, my bad,” he mumbles, his neck feeling hot. 

“Damn, Goshiki,” Kawanishi holds him upright, raising an eyebrow. He’s the one that caught Tsutomu when he stumbled. “You need a minute?”

“Sorry,” calls Ushijima from the other side of the court. “Kawanishi, take him to the nurse.”

“No!” Tsutomu’s eyes snap open, and he whips his head towards the captain. “I’m alright! It wasn’t that hard!”

Ushijima gives him a critical look. Kawanishi snorts. “It was Ushijima’s spike, of course it hurts.”

“I mean!” He flounders. “Of course it was a hard spike, but my, uh, face is tough? So I’m fine!”

“...Right.” The second year just nods vacantly and drags him over to the bench. 

“No nurse,” Tsutomu asserts, but it comes out more whiny than he wants it to. 

“No nurse,” Kawanishi rolls his eyes, pulling his gym bag over from the neat row of bags along the wall. “Ice pack?”

An ice pack sounds _really_ good right about now. “Yes. Thanks.” Kawanishi begins to pull out his belongings in search of said ice pack. 

“...Hey. Goshiki?” He blinks up at the second year, mildly surprised. Kawanishi rarely starts conversations. “Did Hinata tell you about Oikawa?” he asks, not looking up from his bag. He shakes up the ice pack to activate it and hands it over to Tsutomu.

He presses the pack against his cheek, wincing at the cold for a moment. “Ah, yeah? She saw him play her brother’s team, _as you all know_.” He lowers his eyes judgmentally. 

“I was on the court while they were all being nosy,” Kawanishi defends himself. “I’m asking because she seems kinda off about it, at lunch. But she wouldn’t tell us what he said to her.”

He must’ve still been in the classroom while that was happening, because all they did at lunch with Goshiki was talk about some beauty-rating chart and then make fun of Yamagata for his poor marks on another math quiz. Hinata hadn’t seemed any different than usual in class today, though. Maybe a little quieter, but that was probably his fault, as he’d been regaling her with the highlights of their three-set match against Kakugawa all morning. 

“She hasn’t talked about it,” he admits thoughtfully. 

Kawanishi shrugs, sliding his bag away and returning to the court. Tsutomu stays for a little longer, taking the time to sip at a water bottle while his cheek goes numb. _Oikawa Tooru, huh?_

* * *

He gets lucky with practice ending a little early, because as he’s exiting the locker room, he can see a stream of girls trickling out of a clubhouse, including one with fiery orange hair. 

“Hinata!” Tsutomu calls out, waving her down. 

She brightens up considerably upon seeing Goshiki, quickly saying her farewells to her teammates. “Hey! I never catch you after practice, this is new!” Her hair is damp and curly from a recent shower, and she’s only wearing a t-shirt despite the cool weather, a jacket laying over one arm. The days are getting longer, so the sun is only just beginning to set, casting the sky in shades of pink and orange. There’s a streak of golden light streaming between the trees and onto the hillside Hinata is climbing down, making her hair glow like a living flame. 

Tsutomu promptly forgets what words are. 

“How was practice? Oh! And when’s your next game, I’ll see if I can make it this time,” Hinata promises. She pulls out a haphazardly folded sheet of paper. “Look, we got our schedule for the season!”

He’s glad she tends to say several things at once, because it gives Tsutomu time to think before he speaks. He peers over the paper in her hand curiously. “Mm, uh… right. Ah, we play a lot of the same schools, I see. W-what’s Shirayuri? I’ve never heard of them.”

“Ooh, I think that might be the all-girl school,” Hinata muses. “Takahashi-san mentioned it, they’re super elite!”

“Ah,” Tsutomu says weakly. “You have a lot more games than we do?"

“Mm,” Hinata nods, folding the paper up again. “That’s how the league works. We don’t really have practice matches, we just play a ton of games and then depending on our win-loss ratio, we’re picked for Prefecture Qualifiers, then there’s Regionals, then Nationals! But there’s also tournaments for additional slots to go to Nationals,” she explains smoothly. “You’re gonna watch me play at some point, right? You’d better.”

Tsutomu laughs. “Of course I will, I’ll just have no idea what’s going on.”

“You’ll know what’s going on when I score all the goals, that’s all that matters!” She declares brightly. Then she peers up at him. “Are you heading back to the dorms now? I don’t want to hold you up.”

He blinks. “I should be the one saying that to you,” he realizes sheepishly. “You live pretty far. Did you bike here today?”

Hinata shakes her head. “Nah, I took the bus. Shouyou and I were up pretty late to talk about his game,” she laughs. “The bus won’t be here for a few minutes, if you wanna wait with me?”

The game… right! Aoba Johsai! “Yeah, I’ll wait with you,” Tsutomu agrees, following her to the bus stop and sitting beside her on the steps. “How’s Karasuno looking?”

Hinata offers him a sly look. “I can’t betray Shouyou’s team, so I won’t say much. But they looked really cool! Kageyama is really talented, he’s the genius setter.”

“I’ll have to watch out for him if we end up playing them,” Tsutomu grins. Hinata seems fine, but Kawanishi’s words nag at the back of his brain. And Hinata doesn’t tell him everything, she’s not as open as she seems, so he wouldn’t want her to keep things bottled away. That whole period of her disappearing off at lunch and avoiding everyone still bothers Tsutomu. “How about Aoba Johsai’s team? What’s their captain like? I know he’s also a really good setter.”

At the mention of Oikawa, a flicker of doubt crosses Hinata’s face. Her smile dims ever so slightly. “Well,” she says tightly, “He’s good at serving.”

Worry creeps into his chest. She’s definitely not being open with him now. “What did he do?” He asks plainly. “You’re upset.”

“I’m not _that_ upset,” Hinata laughs, eyebrows raised, but she digs her fingers into the grass, tearing at it impulsively. “I don’t know how to explain it… And I definitely don’t want to talk about it with your _whole team,_ Goshiki. They’re making you ask about it, aren’t they?”

“I’m sorry they’re so nosy,” Tsutomu sighs, scratching his head. “I put a lock on my phone, if that helps. But… they’re all just concerned, you know. If it wasn’t a big deal, you would’ve told me. If you weren’t upset, you wouldn’t look so uncomfortable right now.”

Hinata pouts, pulling up her legs and curling into a loose ball. “Don’t make a fuss about it, okay? I’ll tell you.” When Goshiki promises, she leans back, peering up at the darkening sky rather than him. “Oikawa was kinda flirty with me before the match, first of all. There were a bunch of fangirls watching him play, so I guess it’s just a thing he does.” 

_Flirty?_ Oikawa_ flirted with Natsu_? Tsutomu has never seen Oikawa in person, is he good-looking? Hinata just said he had a fan club, he was _that_ good-looking? 

“Was that… not good?” Tsutomu finds himself asking. Hinata looks at him questioningly. “Uh, I mean. You don’t sound very happy about it. Was he pushy with you?” If that’s the case, Tsutomu will definitely not let it go... 

“Oh!” Hinata gives him a half-smile. “No, he wasn’t pushy or creepy about it, actually. But it was, eh, not really my thing? Or I guess he’s not really someone I’d hang out with, and we don’t know each other, so it felt like a routine.” She shrugs. “But then his team lost, and I went to talk to my brother and his teammates—and Oikawa started flirting again, but it was… _different_. I don’t even remember what he said but it was so _embarrassing_,” she takes a breath, patting her her quickly-coloring cheeks. “_That_ part was kinda pushy. And he did it so _loudly_—because it was all to get a reaction out of my brother and his team,” she spits out the last words with resentment, her jaw tight with frustration. “It was so stupid, there wasn’t any reason to involve me if all he wanted to do was mock Karasuno or whatever. Like, as soon as he got Kageyama and Shouyou’s attention, he just forgot all about me and started picking apart Kageyama’s plays, told Shouyou he would hold his team back—the whole thing made me regret even going to the match!” Hinata exclaims, running a frustrated hand through her messy hair. 

She finally looks at him, and Tsutomu can do nothing but gape at her, unsure of how to react. She told him not to make a big deal of it, but the look on her face… Hinata was genuinely hurt, so how was he supposed to let that go? “Hinata…” 

“But it’s just one guy,” Hinata huffs, crossing her arms resolutely. “And he did all that nonsense because he’s _petty_, and a sore loser. So I’m _pissed_ that someone would use me like that—but I’m mostly just angry because he’s like, actually a _great_ volleyball player, so why in the world would he put others down like that?”

He blinks, confused by the sudden dejection in her voice, not to mention the compliment (?) for Oikawa. “Wait, what do you mean?”

“I mean Kageyama-kun and Shouyou! And even Tsukishima. You don’t know them—you might not even _like_ them, because they’re going to be your opponents—but there’s no reason to _disrespect_ other players. That was totally nasty of him!” 

Tsutomu nods, a sort of angry, confused helplessness coiling in his gut. No wonder she didn’t want to talk about it. There was nothing Tsutomu could do to fix something like this. “Hinata, that’s awful,” he says frankly, carefully placing a hand on her shoulder. “No one should talk to you that way—or talk to other players that way, for the record. I know we can get pretty competitive, but _you_ didn’t need to get pulled into it. Oikawa’s supposed to be a captain, he should know better.”

“Mm,” Hinata nods sharply. “That’s what_ I_ said too.”

“Hah?” he stares at Hinata. “Wait, wait, wait—_you told him off?_”

She looks at him like he has two heads. “Goshiki. _Of course I did._ He was playing dumb mind games with a bunch of new players—and Kageyama used to play with him, actually, so he was being nasty to his own _kouhai_—it was all so stupid, so I told him so!” Hinata rolls her eyes. 

A heavy weight in his chest begins to lighten. He can’t help but grin. “Hinata, you’re a lot braver than I thought. Why were you so adamant about not telling us about all this?”

The soccer player blinks at him, owlish. “Well, it’s over. And it’s got nothing to do with the actual game. I just get all worked up over it whenever his name is mentioned!” Her cheeks puff out for a moment in her frustration before she exhales loudly. 

He feels his lips quirk up into a smile. “So, if my team asks, I tell them _Oikawa is a prick?_”

Hinata lets out a squawk at his sudden profanity, then a chuckle. “Yep! That’s it. That’s the story.”

He nods somberly. “Got it. _Oikawa is a prick_.”

This time, he gets a full blown laugh out of Hinata. “He’s a _prick!_” She squeaks, her face coloring. It’s a little jarring to hear her swear, and it’s not even that bad of a word, but apparently it’s enough to make her bashful for a moment. 

He still has a hand on her shoulder, and suddenly feels the urge to slide over, letting his arm wrap over her back into a half-hug. So he does it. To his surprise, she leans right back into him without missing a beat. Tsutomu’s mind goes into overdrive trying to think of something to say next, something casual and not-conspicuous so they don’t just sit there in weird silence, but nothing comes to mind. 

The slow rumble of the bus rouses them as it appears from around the corner.

“_Ah_,” Hinata says, but her inflection pitches low, and Tsutomu can pretend she’s disappointed she has to leave. “There’s my bus,” she murmurs, pulling away. 

He gets up first, helping her to her feet before scooping up her bag and jacket to hand it over. Hinata smiles in thanks, her head craned way up because they’re standing so close, and she’s so short. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Goshiki!”

“Yeah,” he agrees, feeling dazed. “Tomorrow. Get home safe, Hinata.”

She rolls her eyes, but nods, pulling out her commuter pass for the ride. “I will, I will! Bye!” 

He waves back to her, watching as the bus’s doors shut and it takes off. Tsutomu walks back to his dormitory in a haze, only managing to find his room by dumb luck. He’s still not the best at directions, often taking a wrong turn in the hallway to make it to his elective classes. But he makes it to his dorm, a small room he shares with Sagae.

“What took you so long?” His roommate wonders absently, as Tsutomu clambers up the ladder to lay face down on the top bunk. “Dramatic, much?”

Tsutomu groans into his pillow, crushing the sides against his ears. He says nothing at all to Sagae, but his roommate seems to get the message anyway. 

“If you want to talk about your problems,” he calls up to Tsutomu, “Go to Ohira, not me. I’ve got a history exam this Thursday.”

Well, that’s kind of what he expected to hear from Sagae. “...Got it,” Tsutomu mumbles.

* * *

On the bus, Natsu finally begins to feel the effects of the chilly evening air and pulls on her warm up jacket. Despite the fact that their practice ended early, Natsu is tired. Today marked the last day of pre-season conditioning, and to commemorate the occasion Captain Utsugi had them running hard all afternoon. She really would’ve had no problem falling asleep on Goshiki if she hadn’t heard the bus approaching. 

She slumps in her seat a little, chin dipping down to keep her face warm in her jacket, and catches a whiff of salonpas and something kind of woodsy. Natsu opens her eyes and looks down, inspecting her clothes suspiciously. The jacket sleeves are always a bit long on her frame, but her hands are totally enveloped by the jacket right now. It’s _way_ too big. There’s a streak of what looks like green and white paint on the hem.

Peeling off the jacket, Natsu looks at it more carefully. It sure _looks_ like her practice jacket, white with pale purple accents. However, the athletic clubs had all the same uniforms. _Did I take Goshiki’s jacket?_ She wonders. He was the last person she saw, after all. But something feels off. 

There’s no kanji printed on the back, as that’s saved for the official uniform zip-up, but on the upper left breast, instead of Shiratorizawa Soccer, it says…

_Shiratorizawa Basketball_

She stares at the stitched writing for a solid few minutes. The thought of basketball hadn’t crossed her mind in weeks, Natsu didn’t know a thing about the sport and really, genuinely, had no interest in learning about it. And obviously, she knew no one on the basketball team. If she had to guess, there was a quiet boy that sat in the back of her homeroom, Ando, who might be on the team. He was tall and lean and stubbed his toe on Natsu’s desk every time he had to walk past her. Ando was even taller than Goshiki at 193 centimeters, so he would fit the jacket.

_Did I even talk to Ando-kun today? When’s the last time I had my actual jacket?_ Natsu hadn’t worn it at all during morning or afternoon practice. 

As if to confuse Natsu further, her phone buzzes with a text from Goshiki later that evening, just as Natsu walks through the front door of her house. 

** _Uh I have your jacket?? Did we switch jackets :0_ **

“But _how?_” Natsu says to herself, pulling off the jacket. She feels a little weird wearing a stranger’s clothes but it’d been cold on the walk from the bus stop to her home, and the rest of her clothes were sweaty and stuffed in her bag. So she makes sure to run a load of laundry that night, a gentle cycle so she won’t accidentally ruin a jacket that doesn’t belong to her, and leaves it up to dry while she takes out her homework and answers Goshiki.

_**I thought so at first, but I don’t have your jacket?? Do you know anyone on the basketball team?** _Natsu hesitates after she’s typed out the message, some inkling in the back of her mind telling her she should change it. Besides, she knows almost for _certain_ that Goshiki doesn’t know _anyone_ that plays basketball. 

But she’s also sure that she switched jackets with Goshiki. So _Goshiki_ had the basketball jacket to begin with. 

Natsu deletes the message, simply writing,**_ I don’t have your jacket, sorry!! Bring mine to class though??_ **🙏🙏 

His response is just a few question marks and a thumbs up, and that’s the end of that. Natsu puts it out of her mind as Shouyou walks in, complaining loudly about his English grades.

* * *

The next morning the mystery is closer to being solved: the jacket belongs to a _Hoshino_. It’s written out neatly in permanent marker on the interior tag. 

Natsu still has not met any basketball players herself, and doesn’t recognize the name, but… hm… she has a theory. 

She leaves for school early, the jacket carefully folded and in a separate plastic bag from her school supplies and her own clothes. There’s a lost and found near the front office that she heads toward, seeing that as the obvious way to get it back to its owner. Natsu goes before her morning practice is set to begin, not wanting any of her teammates to see her with a guy’s jacket. She only wore it yesterday because no one was around to see it, but Natsu’s not oblivious to the implications of wearing what was obviously a super tall guy’s clothing. Her teammates, Aimi and Yamane especially, would _never_ let her hear the end of it. 

Just as Natsu turns the corner to reach the office, she spots another student headed to the same location from the opposite direction. 

He’s _very_ tall, with a medium build and fluffy hair the color of caramel. When he gets closer, Natsu can see a beauty mark near his nose and the hint of stubble on his sharp chin; his round eyes are a shade darker than his hair, and flecked with green. He’s in a school uniform, and doesn’t even have a bag with him, but Natsu has a gut feeling. 

“Good morning!” Natsu waves to him before he gets to the door to the office. He looks down at her, obviously not expecting her to speak. “Are you Hoshino-san?”

Now he looks even more surprised. “Yes. Good morning… I’m sorry, have we met?” He asks in a low, gentle voice. 

“No,” Natsu admits, lifting up the plastic bag. “But I have your warm up jacket.”

Hoshino is mystified, but takes out the jacket to inspect it. He has big hands, with athletic tape around two fingers and ink stains on his knuckles. “...This is mine,” he confirms shyly.

He’s _adorable_. Natsu grins brightly, clapping her hands. “Great! I’m glad.” She spins on her heel and makes to leave.

“H-Hang on,” Hoshino calls out, though he hardly raises his voice. Natsu pauses. “Who… who are you? And… _how_…?”

The basketball player only holds her gaze for a few moments before looking timidly at the ground. “I’m Hinata,” she answers evenly. “I don’t know how the jackets got mixed up, but you have it back now, and I have mine, so. That’s that. Right?”

“Right…” Hoshino doesn’t look particularly convinced, but also seems too wary to ask any further. “Thank you, Hinata.”

“No problem!” Natsu throws him a thumbs up as she leaves, and quickly makes her way to the soccer field for practice.

* * *

Goshiki apparently found his warm up jacket left in the clubhouse. Natsu makes an idle remark about him being careless, thanks him for returning her jacket, and that’s the end of the conversation. She sits with her teammates Hirao, Yokoyama, and Ariyoshi at lunch—bickering with Ariyoshi the whole time, because Ariyoshi _insists_ on running her mouth—and puts the whole jacket swap far in the back of her mind. Hoshino seemed like a perfectly sweet guy. She hopes he isn’t fretting over the whole mishap. 

Later in the day, Natsu has an elective art class in the eastern wing of the school. In the back of the classroom there’s a big poster in the process of being painted, and near the very top of it, there’s a green and white pattern that could be painted by someone with a ladder, or someone very tall. Natsu doesn’t check the record of students listed to work on the art club painting, but if she did, she’d find the name _Hoshino Tomoki_ neatly written there. 

At the end of class, someone calls out to Natsu as she’s leaving, and she finds herself in the shadow of one very tall middle blocker in the hallway.

“Kawanishi-san,” she greets him, adjusting the strap on her school bag. “Hi!”

The taller ginger peers down at her with a tight, neutral look. “Hinata,” he says again, brow furrowed. “You got a minute?”

“Sure,” Natsu lets him lead her towards one of the staircases, one at the end of the hall and usually pretty empty. 

When they’re alone, Kawanishi levels another critical look on her. “You weren’t at lunch today.”

Natsu raises her eyebrows in surprise at the non sequitur. “Oh, I was with some of my teammates. The first years, I don’t think you’d know them.” 

He nods curtly. Kawanishi is naturally quite standoffish, he just has that sort of face, but right now he looks distinctly brittle. “Listen. Hinata,” he begins. “This morning, you saw Tomo-… _Hoshino_ before class. That was _you_, right?”

“Yeah.” 

Kawanishi hums, deliberating over his words, unusually diffident. “And you gave him his jacket.” She nods again. “But you didn’t say where you got it from.”

“Actually,” Natsu replies, scratching her cheek, “I said I didn’t know _how_ the jackets got swapped. I’m pretty sure I have it figured out now, though?”

The second year shows no outward sign of reaction to this, but the silence that follows is deafening. Natsu holds his gaze as best she can, sensing the discomfort rolling off him in waves. “Is that so,” Kawanishi says at last. 

Natsu waits for him to go on, but he says nothing. She huffs. “_Okay_,” Natsu relents, figuring he wants to hear her version first. “So, yesterday Goshiki waited with me at the bus stop, and I must’ve taken the jacket he was carrying instead of my own, because he texted me later that he had mine. But when I looked at the jacket I had, it was _Hoshino’s_. So _Goshiki_ must’ve mixed up his jacket with that one before he saw me. Goshiki doesn’t know any basketball players, and I didn’t have _his_ jacket, so I never told him about it. Plus, his jacket turned out to be in the clubhouse, so that’s either where he left it, or it’s where _you_ left it, after you realized you didn’t have Hoshino’s jacket anymore.”

She peers up at Kawanishi at last, but again, he gives very little reaction except for the way his mouth presses into a thin line. “_Well_,” he says woodenly. “That’s pretty much how it went.”

“Mm,” Natsu agrees, eyebrows raised. She doesn’t smile or offer anything more than a nod, because Kawanishi looks like he’s bracing for it the same way Ikejiri, a quiet third year on her team, braces for Yamane’s dramatic, angry outbursts. 

He sighs. “This is _exhausting_,” Kawanishi mutters crossly. “Don’t you want to know _why_ I had the jacket?”

“Because you’re dating?” Natsu guesses bluntly. Kawanishi makes a face. “_Uwah!_ You don’t have to look so pissed about it!” She admonishes him. 

Fortunately, his expression smooths out pretty quickly into his usual frown. “I’m not pissed.... No one’s supposed to _know_, Hinata,” he mutters, though he sounds more aggravated than troubled now. “It’s no one’s business but _ours_. If someone like Kunitake knew, Tomoki wouldn’t be able to handle the attention.” 

In a school like Shiratorizawa, scandals spread like wildfire. And most people these days were pretty tolerant, but that wasn’t the same thing as being wholly accepting of same-sex relationships. Anything more intimate than holding hands in public would cause a stir if it was seen by the wrong people. 

Kunitake Aimi never struck Natsu as an overtly malicious person, but even if she didn’t mean anything offensive by spreading rumors about Kawanishi, the impact would still be damaging. Hell, Aimi was the reason Natsu figured it out in the first place. She mentioned that Kawanishi had been hanging out with a basketball player lately, and already suspected they were a couple.

Natsu gives the middle blocker a sympathetic look. “Aimi-san has really caused you a lot of trouble, hasn’t she? I’m sorry about her.”

Kawanishi scoffs. “It’s hardly _your_ fault,” he says resentfully. “I could’ve avoided all this by not taking Tomo’s jacket in the first place.”

“What? No, Kawanishi-san, it’s _cute_,” Natsu protests immediately. Kawanishi gives her a side-eye, and Natsu glares back stubbornly. “You think if_ I_ had a cute boyfriend, I wouldn’t be stealing his jacket_ all the time?_” 

Kawanishi clicks his tongue. “You know it’s not the same.”

“Why? _You_ don’t think Hoshino’s cute?” Natsu narrows her eyes with doubt.

“‘Course I do,” he grumbles, jamming his hands in his pockets, ears bright pink. “...He’s a big crybaby though, he’s been worrying all day about you knowing about us.”

Aw, now Natsu feels bad for not explaining sooner. She hadn’t wanted to broach the subject with Hoshino without knowing how he’d react. Natsu folds her arms loosely. “Well I won’t say anything. I could never do that to you.” She promises. “But… it sounds like not even your _friends_ know about it.”

Kawanishi hums, leaning against the far wall and staring up at nothing. “I did say it’s no one’s business.” He glances back at Natsu evenly. “Not that they’d be weird about it or anything. But the fewer people know, the less likely it is to spread.”

He turns away from her, looking out the window and into the courtyard silently. Natsu lets him sulk for a moment, but soon her chest feels too tight with emotion to keep it bottled away. 

“You should talk to your team more about yourself,” Natsu exclaims. “If they understood how you felt about it, they’d support you. _I support you_. Kawanishi-san,” she quickly lowers her voice to an excited hush, “I bet you two make the _best_ couple, I knew it as soon as I saw Tomo he was _totally your type_—”

“_Hinata_,” he hisses, immediately flustered. “You don’t know what you’re saying—”

“But I _do_, he’s _adorable_, Kawanishi-san! You call him _Tomo!_” Natsu squeals, and quickly covers her mouth. “And he’s an artist, ne? I saw the poster he’s working on, have you seen it? _Tell him it's cool._ Does he want to continue playing basketball? Because I bet he could make a _career_ from his art—”

“He’s always been that talented, he wants to go to a design school in Kyoto,” Kawanishi blurts out, and the flush on his face spreads up from his neck and over his cheeks. He notices the look on Natsu’s face and immediately scowls. “_Shut up_, Hinata.”

“Do you talk to anyone about him? Your family?” Natsu asks gently. “Because if not, I need to step up my little sister game. _Does he make you happy?_”

A ghost of a smile appears on Kawanishi’s face. “You’re being ridiculous, Hinata,” he says fondly, running a hand through his messy orange hair. “I don’t need to talk to anyone about it, Tomo and I tell each other everything. We’re… we’re _really_ happy.” Then he set a hand on top of her head, ruffling her brighter orange hair. “Thanks for asking, _imouto_,” he says with a huff. 

Natsu giggles; Shouyou rarely calls her _little sister_, he just sticks to _Nacchan_ or _nee-san_ even though she’s technically younger. With Kawanishi, though, she certainly feels like a little sister.

“Anytime, _nii-san_.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kawanishi, my darling, my angry ginger boy, he's currently the only member of the volleyball team in a healthy and loving relationship and that's that. 
> 
> On a separate note, I'm making stats for all of Natsu's teammates. I've gotten all of their names (except Aone Yui) from the starting roster of Japan's national team. Here's Captain Utsugi:
> 
> Utsugi Rumi (Captain) (Sweeper)  
Current Concern: the boys' soccer team keeps asking for joint practices  
Power: 5/5  
Resilience: 5/5  
Stamina: 4/5  
Game Sense: 2/5  
Technique: 2/5  
Speed: 2/5  
Eyebrows: 5/5


	11. group chat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've written a few group chat logs for Natsu's team to get a feel for their interactions, so here's a short one for now. There's a total of 23 players, but I won't write about all of them... too many OCs...
> 
> Characters mentioned:
> 
> (3rd years)  
Utsugi Rumi - Cpt.Thighs  
Aone Yui - Aone  
Sugasawa Yuika - not_yui  
Iwabuchi Mana - 16Mana  
Ikejiri Mayu- zZZ  
(2nd years)  
Nakajima Emi- CenterBitch  
Yamane Erina - ERIBERRY  
(1st years)  
Hinata Natsu - ✨starfire 🔥  
Hirao Chika - strongbean  
Ariyoshi Saori- ariYOSH  
Yokoyama Kumi - yams  
Kitamura Nanami- nana_banana

> _**Team Group Chat** has been created_
> 
> _**CptThighs** has added **Aone, sakagucci, not_yui, 16Mana**, + 16 others to **Team Group Chat**_

**CptThighs** new year, new chat group. 

**CptThighs**: don’t kill each other unless aone says it’s ok

**ERIBERRY**: YASS BITCHES LETS GOOOO @everyone

**ERIBERRY**: WE NEED A COOLER NAME THO

**ERIBERRY**: LEAN MEAN DREAM TEAM ?

**ERIBERRY**: MIYAGI'S ANGELS ?

**ERIBERRY**: RUMI & THE FLOCK ?

**ERIBERRY**: @everyone ANSWER ME COWARDS

✨**starfire** 🔥: hiya yamane!!! 

**ERIBERRY**: HINATAAAA 

**ERIBERRY**: my starlight bby girl 

**ERIBERRY**: you’re doin amazing

**not_yui**: erina we talked about this

**16Mana**: ever heard of the boy who cried wolf

**zZZ**: i’m muting this.

**zZZ**: my business hours are from 2 - 5pm

**zZZ**: bye

**not_yui**: that has to be a record

**16Mana**: 5 minutes and ike is done with ur shit

**ERIBERRY**: I’M JUST PUMPED

**ERIBERRY**: NEW YEAR NEW CHAT

✨**starfire** 🔥: yes!! me too!!

**ariYOSH**: die

✨**starfire** 🔥: !!!!

✨**starfire** 🔥: sorry ariyoshi??

**ariYOSH**: not you

✨**starfire** 🔥: oh ok then!!

**ERIBERRY**: say that to my face 

**ariYOSH**: YOU are the one @ ing everyone for no reason 

**ariYOSH**: it's 10pm and i've heard enough from you in practice

**ariYOSH**: you wanna chat so bad i’ll give u something to talk about

**ERIBERRY**: GYM 2, MIDNIGHT

**ariYOSH**: are you challenging me to a duel

**ERIBERRY**: PK SHOOTOUT

**ariYOSH**: we need a fucking goalie for PKs you donkey

**ERIBERRY**: 1) stringbean can be keeper

**ERIBERRY**: 2) donkey?? i'm ashamed to be ur senpai

**ariYOSH**: ...

**ariYOSH**: wheres the stringbean

✨**starfire** 🔥: you mean hirao???

**nana_banana**: _@**_s_trongbean**_

**16Mana**: oh god don’t enable them

**not_yui**: why are there so many food-related names?

**yams**: we’re hungry first years

**CenterBitch**: hungry for deez nutz

**yams**: ... 

**yams**: bye

✨**starfire** 🔥: no! we lost yokoyama too!!

**strongbean**: hello! wassup?? 

✨**starfire** 🔥: don't leave us hirao!!

**strongbean**: ????

**ERIBERRY**: be our keeper

**strongbean**: am i not ur keeper??

**strongbean**: oh i scrolled up

**strongbean**: cool 

**strongbean**: im down for it

**ERIBERRY**: _@**ariYOSH**_ u ready to lose asshole

**ariYOSH**I: whatever i can take you

**ERIBERRY**: YOU’RE A DEFENDER

**ERIBERRY**: YOU DON’T KNOW SHIT ABOUT SCORING

**ariYOSH**: how hard can it be

**Aone**: stop

✨**starfire** 🔥: sorry senpai!

**ariYOSH**: sorry

**ERIBERRY**: sorry

**strongbean**: sorry

**nana_banana**: sorry

✨**starfire** 🔥: nanami you did nothing wrong!!

**nana_banana**: nah i kinda wanted them to fight

✨**starfire** 🔥: oh... fighting is bad >:0

**Aone**: ^

**CptThighs**: what did i tell you about the chat. 

**CptThighs**: it’s past curfew, if you're out of the dorms i’ll kill you myself

**Aone**: no

**CptThighs**: shit

**CptThighs**: sorry ok i’ll have you doing suicides in practice if you break curfew

**ERIBERRY**: damn even mom’s getting scolded

**nana_banana**: thought utsu was dad? aone is much nicer

**16Mana**: aonechan is the peacekeeping dad that also protects us at all costs

**16Mana**: utsugichan is the hardass mom that won’t buy us snacks

**16Mana**: so when aonechan says no, it means no

**not_yui**: can't disappoint team dad, team dad is too good for us. 

✨**starfire** 🔥: makes sense to me

**ERIBERRY**: aone’s word is law. good night bitches.


	12. the problem with semi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry natsu

The team’s just finished their laps around the school, and Semi Eita can feel the burn in his legs as Wakatoshi leads the cool-down and stretches on the track. They started their outdoor conditioning a little late in the afternoon to avoid the midday heat of May, and now the sun’s set the sky ablaze with oranges and pinks as it inches toward the horizon. Eita tilts his head back as they stretch their legs, looking towards the grass fields where he last saw the soccer teams practicing. Then his gaze sweeps past it, to the dirt path that winds around the campus and up through the surrounding hilly forests, the trail his team sometimes uses for their long-distance run. 

He’s eyeing a lamppost that sits between the path and the fence around the track with idle amusement when Soekawa calls his name, drawing Eita out of his thoughts. 

“You’re in a good mood,” Jin notes, pulling up the hem of his shirt to mop at his face. “I thought you hated conditioning days.”

Eita shrugs, working to lessen the grin on his face. He hadn’t realized he’d been smiling. “Today wasn’t so bad.”

Because it’s Jin asking, and not someone unbearably nosy like Tendou, Shirabu, or Goshiki, there’s no further scrutiny for Eita to endure. Jin simply nods, and they join the rest of their team as they pick up their bags and trek back to the locker room. Eita is in a good mood, though. He’s in such high spirits, he feels like he deserves a treat after such a hard day of practice. 

He lags behind his teammates, telling Ohira and the others to go on ahead. There’s a vending machine out here somewhere, and he’s been craving something sugary for a while. He’s well aware of the judgemental look Shirabu, the little shit, will give him, but one soda won’t kill his ability to set the ball. 

The vending machine is just around the corner of Gym 2, luckily, so he pulls out a few coins and scans through the items. He selects a cold soda, and just as he kneels to retrieve the drink, a small hand slams against the vending machine, right next to his face. Eita startles, looking up.

Hinata Natsu stares down at him, her expression severe. She’s still in her practice clothes, her hair resembling a sweaty orange nest. “_Semi_.”

“Hinata,” he greets her, countering her hostile vibes with a placid smile. Eita pulls his drink out from the machine and offers it to her. “Here, take this.” 

“Huh?” The ginger girl is taken off-guard, automatically holding onto the can as Eita gets to his feet. “Why?”

His smile becomes a smirk, looking down at her from his full height. “You were looking a little _thirsty_ out there.”

Her jaw drops. She flounders, eyes wide as saucers as her face rapidly turns the color of a tomato. “Y-You _saw?_”

Unable to hold back any longer, Eita bursts into unrestrained laughter at her horrified look, clutching at his stomach. Hinata gives a yell of protest, but once he’s started he can’t stop, it’s too much for him to handle. And it’s not your regular run-of-the-mill humor, no sir. He’s not chuckling or snickering under his breath, no, this is bellowing, hearty, obnoxious laughter. 

“_I saw the whole thing!_” Eita exclaims, his voice a little wheezy from talking and laughing at the same time. If anyone else were around he’d be embarrassed that his voice is pitching up as he speaks, but there’s pretty much nothing he could do now to lose face in front of Hinata. “Oh my _god_, Hinata!” Eita’s grinning so wide his eyes are shut, bowed over almost in half.

“Shut up!” Hinata squeals, trying to shush him. She snags him by the shirt and tugs, lightly, as if shaking him will snap him out of it. “Shut _up_, you don’t know what you saw! You didn’t see _anything!_” 

On the contrary, though, Eita knows _exactly_ what he saw. It happened just two hours ago, just after the volleyball team had finished up diving laps.

* * *

“Owwwww,” Hayato whines, rubbing his chin as he slouches after Eita towards the sinks, immediately protesting further when they step outside into the scorching sunlight. “I do enough diving in games, I should be exempt from these laps,” he gripes, unscrewing the cap on his water bottle. “Also, where’re the rest of the first years?”

This question is aimed at Goshiki, the only remaining first year that had to go through diving laps with them. Usually the first years and other non-starting players would help out with filling up water bottles and handing out towels if they weren’t part of the practice drills. The ace-wannabe runs a hand through his sweaty bangs, squinting at their libero through his exhaustion. “They’re in the weight room with Saito Sensei… I think? I don’t know. I can’t _think_ anymore.”

That seems to be a common sentiment amongst the players, and they all move sluggishly to the outdoor sinks to fill up their bottles and stick their heads under the faucets. The summer humidity is kicking in, and their gym was turning into a sauna. Even with an air-conditioned gym, the sweltering heat was hitting them hard. Eita drags his head out from beneath the cold faucet and shakes out his hair, absent-mindedly mourning the waste of hair gel. Water trickles down the back of his neck. The sun’s rays feel strong enough to dry off his clothes, but Eita ends up tugging off his t-shirt anyway to enjoy the slight breeze while he still can. 

Yamagata has wandered off towards Soekawa and Goshiki, starting up a conversation about his plummeting math grades (again). Eita can already see Tendou, grinning, as he inches towards the pair of them to gloat about his own test scores (again). Shirabu and Kawanishi groan and share looks, apparently noticing the same thing. Ushijima is entirely focused on rinsing out his bottle properly, but that’s to be expected.

In a bid to avoid the upcoming squabble, Eita picks up his water bottle and turns away, taking a few long gulps. 

The grassy land beyond their gym slopes downward before connecting to the well-kept grass fields used for the soccer teams. Farther to the right are the grass and dirt pastures for the equestrian team, and to the left, the forest cuts into campus, naturally sectioning off the fields and providing shade for the players. A dirt path separates the campus lawns from the chain link fence along the soccer field. 

One of the soccer fields is empty of players; still dotted with bright orange cones and and practice goals, practice can’t be over so early, but Eita wonders where the players could be.

He gets his answer a few moments later as the girls’ team emerges from the left, running down the familiar dirt path that circles the campus. Their running pace isn’t too fast, but if they’ve been keeping it up for the entirety of the circuit around the school grounds, Eita pities Hinata and the other first years.

His water bottle is halfway to his mouth when he spots Hinata’s vibrant hair, and he pauses at the odd sight.

She’s already looking up the hill when Eita sees her, her mouth falling open in a way that has nothing to do with the fact that she’s running. Hinata’s expression is something Eita has never seen before. Eyes blown wide open, roaming over the hill with bright, sharp focus. It strikes an odd chord in Eita, leaving him buzzing and confused. 

_What kind of look is that?_ He wonders, weirdly agitated. 

Then it occurs to Eita that 1) she’s looking at the volleyball team, and 2) his teammates have followed his lead in pulling off their shirts to cool down. Hinata’s gaze lands on Semi again, traveling up before she finally meets his eyes. 

A moment later Hinata wrenches her gaze away and suddenly jerks to the left, but she’s too late—

** _CLANG_ **

Hinata runs into a lamppost, stumbles, and knocks over a teammate before landing flat on her back. 

Her teammates skid to a stop around the pair of them. Eita can hear them faintly, shouting words of shock and worry as Hinata staggers to her feet. Her head turns toward Eita, but the view is blocked by the surrounding girls. Utsugi, a short (and scary) girl from Eita's class and captain of the soccer team, jogs back to them, looking pissed. He bites down hard on the inside of his cheek to stop himself from making any noise, flummoxed by this entire series of events.

“Did you hear something?” Shirabu wonders aloud, lifting his head.

Making a snap decision, Eita turns on his heel and strides back towards the sinks, raising his eyebrows. “_Nope_, I didn’t hear a thing. Let’s go save the first years from the weight room, I’m sure the trainer’s working them hard.”

Ushijima hears and agrees with Eita, pulling on a shirt—Reon’s, by accident, which amuses Tendou enough that he tries to take Kawanishi’s shirt to see how it’ll fit—and then Eita has to forget about Hinata for a moment to keep Yamagata from shoving his sweaty libero jersey over Eita’s head. 

“Oi, oi, put your clothes back on!” Soekawa smacks Tendou and takes Kawanishi’s shirt back. “We’re _outside_, you don’t know who might see us—if Washijo gives us a punishment for public indecency, _I’m_ going to give you one too,” he threatens.

“_Kinky_,” Tendou replies automatically, and then he scrambles to pull his shirt back on while running away from the vice captain. Practice with the team resumes as usual, the only difference being Eita and the burgeoning knowledge of what he’d witnessed.

* * *

Presently, Hinata has Eita by the front of his shirt like a tiny elementary school bully, keeping him hunched over to her level. She holds her arms straight out, though, as if to maintain some respectful distance between them. But there’s nothing respectful about this anymore, and Eita isn’t so polite that he’ll overlook it.

“You were _checking us out_,” he declares, deeply satisfied by the dark shade of pink Hinata blushes. He keeps his voice lowered, but only just. It’s too funny for him to keep quiet. “Not just Goshiki, but _everyone_. Shirabu, Ushijima, Yamagata—”

“Why would it just be Goshiki?” Hinata blurts out, which just intrigues Eita even more. She seems to realize this, and quickly scowls. “I was _scanning the horizon_,” she hisses, her hands still twisted in his shirt. He almost makes a joke about her trying to tear it off him, but holds his tongue. “It wasn’t what you thought you saw.”

“I saw you stare at my abs so long you ran into a _post_,” Eita crows, still kind of amazed. He knew the volleyball team had fangirls, but Shiratorizawa was a very serious and proper school. Eita’s received Valentine’s Day chocolate, he’s found a love letter or two in his locker, he’s heard the new cheer squad shout his name at official matches. All innocent admirers. 

Eita’s never seen a girl _ogle_ before, not like the way Natsu did. Though he’s never considered himself to be exceptionally vain, there was something very gratifying about it coming from his little kouhai. She was usually so polite and sweet, which Eita found endearing, but this was even better somehow. 

“Hinata, you totally perved on us. I didn’t think you had it in you.”

The first year releases him as if she’s been burned, letting out a small ‘eep’ and covering her face with both hands, mortified. Eita didn’t actually mean it in a negative way, but that’s probably not how Hinata sees it. 

“I didn’t mean to! I’m sorry,” she whisper-yells through her fingers, “I wasn’t expecting you all to be so—and I was zoning out, it was a five kilometer run, and—_oh my god I’m going to hell_—why were all so wet and shiny, it was like staring into the sun—why am I telling you this, I _hate_ this—“ 

Eita cuts her off by bursting into marginally-sadistic laughter again, this time a little more controlled, but it’s enough to make Hinata lift her head and look at him despairingly.

“I forgive you,” he says between gasps for breath, feeling a stitch form in his side. “Really, it’s a better compliment than being at the top of the ‘Hot’ axis,” Eita admits, a teasing grin still on his lips. She can’t even make eye contact with him now. “I think Tsutomu might faint if he knew _you_ saw him, though.”

That certainly gets her attention. There’s a fire in her gaze when she looks at him, but it’s nothing like the scorching intensity of her wandering eye from earlier. “You cannot tell _anyone_ about this, Semi. Not a soul.”

Not that he was planning on it, but her dramatic words bring out the playfulness in Eita, and he taps his lip in a show of mulling it over. “Why not, _Hinata-chan?_” he cooes. “It was so cute, I’m sure they'd all be flattered.”

“Don’t call me Hinata-chan,” she wails, her face still fully flushed pink. “Don’t make fun of me!”

“Fine, fine,” Eita relents, raising his eyebrows for emphasis. “I’m not joking, it really is kind of cute. _Nacchan_.”

Hinata looks caught between wishing she could be swallowed up by the ground and wishing he would spontaneously combust. “You’re the _worst_,” she gasps out, covering her face again. “This is the worst day.”

“Because we gave you an _anatomy lesson_—?”

“SHUT your _MOUTH_,” Hinata shrieks, spinning on her heel to hide herself.

“—or because you ran into a lamppost?” Eita continues, grinning ridiculously wide. He taps her shoulder obnoxiously, leaning against the vending machine. He can still see her bright red ears from this angle, clashing horrible with her hair. “Aw, I’m joking. The part where you ran into a lamppost is a bigger deal, y’know.”

Hinata groans, dropping her hands and facing him again. “It hurt _so much_,” she admits in a rush, rolling up the sleeve of her jacket. A livid bruise is developing on her forearm, prominent against her tanned skin, where she’d tried to brace herself and avoid hitting her head. There’s a matching one above her knee. “And I knocked over _Nanami-chan_, we were just starting to get along.”

Eita winces in sympathy. It looked much more painful than when he ran into Yamagata. “You better ice it more when you get home,” he shakes his head. “Bet Utsu-san tore you a new one over it.”

“She _did_,” Hinata huffs. “Up until then I’d been keeping pace just fine, and everyone could’ve kept running, but she flipped out on me and we were all behind schedule because of it.”

“That sucks,” he says simply. “But I have to point out, it’s also entirely your own fault.”

Hinata lets her sleeve drop with a sigh, neither confirming nor denying it. She scoops up the soda can from where she’d set it on the pavement, holding it out to him with a tense expression. “It was rude of me anyway,” she says tersely, as if running into a pole was the proper punishment for her actions. 

Yeesh. Karma’s a bitch and all, but Hinata might be taking this all too seriously. Eita takes the soda back, peering at her curiously. “Rude? That’s _all?_ So you’re not harboring any secret crushes on me?”

Her nostrils flare in annoyance, but she doesn’t snap. She just sounds resigned. “I don’t have a crush on you.” 

He makes an exaggerated pout, as if this is more offensive than her peeping on him in the first place. “Aw, so it’s not me? How about Goshiki?”

“No,” Hinata repeats, brow furrowed. “He’s my best friend.”

He can’t tell how honest she’s being, but if so, _yikes_. Eita is sure that Goshiki has an enormous crush on her, but he’s not about to let that be known. (There’s a current betting pool between Semi, Ohira, Kawanishi and Jin regarding several other teammates’ struggling love lives). Eita steps back and begins walking towards the clubhouse, and after a moment Hinata follows his lead. 

“Hm. Shirabu? Yamagata? Rank us, I’m in the top three, right?”

“Top three of _what?_ Horrible senpais?” Hinata snips back, as menacing as a puppy. “I just happened to _look_, it doesn’t _mean_ anything.”

Well, that’s true enough. Girls with skirts too short, guys that leave the top two buttons undone on dress shirts—Eita does plenty of looking without wanting more than that… 

“But the look on your face, Hinata. You _liked what you saw_,” Eita can’t help but press the issue, feeling immensely smug. “My _perfect abs_ are burned into your memory for life—_yeOWW!_” He jumps about a foot into the air when Hinata chops him viciously in the side. 

Hinata scowls. “You—you don’t even _have_ the best abs,” she stammers, wrestling between indignity and embarrassment while Semi scrambles to pick up the soda he dropped. Damn, now he really can’t drink it yet. “Also, you scream like a chicken!”

Willfully ignoring that last part, Eita rubs his side sourly. “What the hell? You’re a lot meaner than I thought.” She sticks out her tongue instead of answering, and Eita just shakes his head. “Nacchan, _Nacchan_, keep your hands to yourself,” he admonishes. “Don’t be pervier than you already are.”

Hinata is no longer blushing, having chosen to stay firmly in the realm of disgruntlement to deal with this conversation. The look she gives him could wither entire forests, and it’s just as amusing to Eita as her mortification. Her shoulders sink, and she turns her face forward. “You’re… not gonna tell anyone,” Hinata says again, but this time it’s less like a demand and more like a realization. “Right?”

Eita looks down at her from the corner of his eye, passing his battered can of soda from one hand to another. He can only see the crown of her head from this angle, her bright orange hair sticking up in every direction. “Nah, I won’t.” Telling his whole team about Hinata would push this from friendly teasing into something kind of shameful for her, even if most of them wouldn’t care. And she had never brought up that trainwreck of a conversation they had in the nurse’s office in front of anyone else, as far as he knew. “It’s more fun if only I know,” Eita decides. 

Then he tacks on, “Because I _will_ hold it over you for the rest of the year. Maybe for your entire life.” Eita never claimed to be a saint. 

Before he knows it the soda can is snatched out of his hands. Startled, he looks up to see Hinata shaking the drink vigorously, a threat in her brown eyes. “Wait, don’t—_NO_—”

_Crrrack_—Hinata lunges at him with the soda can, fizzy water overflowing from the cracked-open top—

“_HINATA_,” he splutters, quickly taking her arm and pushing the soda away, already feeling the wetness seep into his clothes. The _audacity_. He has the greatest blackmail material ever on this girl, and she does this? Was nothing sacred anymore?

She shrieks when the soda gets on her too, and Eita tips the can backward to make it worse, and—okay yeah they’re just splashing each other with cold sugary water like five years olds now. 

“I _just_ said I wouldn’t tell anyone, dumbass!”

“You shouldn’t joke about it either!” Hinata argues back. 

“I was kidding, oh my god,” Eita yanks the soda out of her hands, annoyed and amused all at once. 

“You were NOT,” she makes a lunge for the drink, which is maybe a third-full now. “_‘You looked thirsty out there’!_ I can’t BELIEVE you!”

He chugs the remaining soda and belches. “I saw an opportunity—”

Hinata howls, pushing him back a step. “_SHUT—UP_—!”

“—And I took it,” Eita talks over her, grinning again. “Alright, I can’t help but joke about it, but that’s ‘cause it was pretty fucking funny.” Of course, Hinata isn’t pleased by this at all. At this point she looks like a sad cat that got caught in the rain, which isn’t making it any easier for Eita to take her seriously. “Hinata, _really_, I’m not making fun of you—”

“You are literally _still_ laughing at me,” she hollers, wiping soda off her face. 

Okay, true. Eita takes a few deep breaths and shakes out his hair, holding up his hands appeasingly. “I’m not mocking you though,” he tries again, “Or,_ I am_, but like—you shouldn’t take it so seriously, you didn’t do anything wrong.” 

“I know that,” Hinata pouts stubbornly, but she doesn’t look entirely convinced. 

“I mean it, I’m just messing with you ‘cause I can,” Eita insists. “I’m a horrible senpai,” he adds for her benefit.

“You _are_,” she says stiffly, drying her hands on her shorts. 

“_You’re_ also a horrible kouhai,” Eita points out offhandedly. “Pouring soda on people.”

“Only on _you_,” Hinata says snootily. But then her expression crumples. “No, forget I said that, I’m sorry for the soda.”

Eita blinks. “That was quick." He's used to more hardheaded underclassmen, like Shirabu, giving him shit. 

She hangs her head. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“I think you’re moving towards acceptance,” Eita muses, hands on his hips. “You’ve passed the anger stage of grief, for sure.” 

“Grief?”

“Grief for your _loss of dignity_.” God, she makes it too easy. "I'll send you flowers."

Hinata stares at him for a long moment, then throws up her hands. “I give up!”

_Acceptance,_ Eita thinks wisely. “You were never going to win.”

She slaps her cheeks all of a sudden, leaving two bright red marks. “Goodbye, Semi,” Hinata declares through gritted teeth, turning away. “I'll just never speak to you again. Problem solved.”

He snorts, absolutely not believing her, but holds himself back from laughing again. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Hinata!” he calls after her. 

Her hands ball into fists, but she marches away without a backwards glance. Eita tosses the empty can away, ignoring the cloying residue on his hands. He doesn’t even care about the soda. It’s been a _great_ day. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh how the tables have turned... Semi is thriving


	13. johzenji

The soccer season officially starts tomorrow, and Natsu couldn’t be more psyched for it. Afternoon practice ends fifteen minutes early so that the coach can corral them all into a huddle in the clubhouse to discuss their upcoming game. 

“As you know from the schedule… our first match is against _Johzenji_.” Sameshima’s expression darkens, and it’s as though a ripple of dread runs through the upperclassmen. “Any of you that remember how we fared against them last year will understand. Johzenji is a particularly difficult team for us to play against.”

“Why’s that?” Hirao pipes up, their first-year back up goalkeeper. “They’re not even a powerhouse school, what’s the problem?”

“The problem,” Yamane cuts in, gritting her teeth, “Is that they play _dirty_.”

“Erina,” the coach eyes her warningly, and the striker goes quiet, looking at the ground. “We've... had a lot of difficulty handling Johzenji’s play style. They’re offense-heavy, valuing speed and individual technical skills over passing plays. And, to be honest, they tend to cause a lot of fouls.”

“They change the pace,” Aone speaks up suddenly, just loud enough to be heard. “When they see we’re gaining momentum, they do everything to stop it, and they’re good at it.”

Captain Utsugi places her hands on her hips, glaring down the underclassmen. “It’s important that we keep our cool. All of us. No matter how bad it gets, we can’t lash out. Yamane, Kunitake, Ariyoshi. I’m talking to you three.”

Ariyoshi gives the captain a lazy salute, rolling her eyes. Kunitake Aimi and Yamane Erina, two starters that never seem to get along, exchange sour looks. 

“That being said, we do have a big advantage over Johzenji—not just our pace, but our passing plays and our stamina. We can outlast them, stay on the offensive for longer than them.” Sameshima goes over to the whiteboard, uncapping a marker. “Here’s our formation to start.”

4-3-3. That meant four defenders, three midfielders and three strikers. Natsu, a midfielder, already knows they won’t put her in to start, but it still irks her to see Nakajima’s name written in the very center of the board. 

“This isn’t our final roster,” Utsugi tells them sternly. “Don’t be surprised if you’re switched out ten minutes in. For league games, we have unlimited substitutes, and we’re making full use of that for our first couple of games until we find the combination that clicks. Last year, Johzenji… Johzenji didn’t just win, they insulted our pride. Our integrity as a team. This time, we will win, and we will do it our way,” the captain says at last. “Ours is the way of champions.”

It’s meant to sound inspiring, by the looks on her teammates’ faces, but Natsu doesn’t quite get it. There’s a tension to the air that Utsugi and the other third years haven’t acknowledged; instead, the team is dismissed, and Natsu goes back to the locker rooms to shower. Since her commute is so long, she sometimes uses the school showers after practice rather than wait to get home. Others who live in the dorms, like Hirao, Yokoyama, and Ariyoshi, simply collect their things and head to their building. 

When Natsu finally gathers up her belongings to head out, she almost runs into someone. “Ikejiri-senpai,” she yelps, hopping to the side to avoid a collision with the third year. “Sorry, I didn’t realize you were here!”

Ikejiri Mayu responds with a slow blink, stepping back languidly. “S’fine. You should… go home and rest for the match.” Her half-lidded eyes skirt past Natsu to the locker room. “Oh good, no one’s here… I hate showering near Akari in the dorms, so loud.”

Natsu, who’d been about to blurt out a loud question, quickly presses her lips together and nods. “_Mm_,” she agrees in a low tone. “Do you think I’ll play much in tomorrow’s game?”

The third year tilts her head, humming in consideration. Natsu isn’t sure if she’s out of line to be asking Ikejiri about it, because if she’s subbed in, it’s likely she’ll be taking Ikejiri’s or Nakajima’s spot. While Ikejiri might act a little too easy-going, or even apathetic, during practice, she’s just as adamant about staying on the roster as the rest of the team. “Y’might. Depends on how you hold your ground. If you’re skittish you’ll be pulled out.”

“I’m not worried about that,” Natsu insists, determined. “I know I’m not the strongest, but I can hold onto the ball when it matters. I’m resilient!”

“That’s cool and all,” Ikejiri drawls, arching an eyebrow, “But if you’re _too_ good at holding your ground, that’s a problem too.” 

“Eh?” Natsu squints at her. But Ikejiri simply yawns, pushing past her towards the showers. 

“See ya tomorrow, Hizaki,” She calls out over her shoulder carelessly. Natsu grimaces, but doesn’t bother correcting her. Ikejiri wouldn’t care. 

Natsu collects her belongings and sets off for her home, wondering why she still had such a sense of foreboding about their match.

* * *

Just as Ikejiri predicted, Natsu gets subbed in just twenty minutes into the game—but as a _wing back_ rather than a midfielder. Sameshima doesn’t give her a reason for not putting her in as a midfielder, either, which is even _more_ frustrating. Natsu watches as Sugita jogs off the field with fire in her eyes, passing her the training pinny and high-fiving her before taking her spot on the far side of the field. 

It might not be the position she wants, and she’s meant to be guarding a wicked-fast striker with shockingly pink hair, but Natsu is still thrilled. Her whole body thrums with anticipation. This is her chance. She won’t let them down. 

The ball is put into play, and everything else beyond the field just falls away. 

But just ten minutes into playing, Natsu realizes why Sugita had looked so furious while she was coming off the field. The pink-haired striker is a _menace_. 

Sure, Natsu can keep up with her. That alone is difficult enough, but the striker is bigger than her, and throws out vicious elbow jabs anytime Natsu fights for the ball. Simply trying to keep her balance while she’s being thrown off the ball takes all of Natsu’s concentration, but she cuts off the striker every time. 

“Tch,” the pink girl, #08, sneers at her the next time Natsu pulls the ball away from her long enough to pick out her midfielder, Nakajima, and move the play towards Johzenji’s side of the field. Natsu casts her a neutral, somewhat wary look, but #08 says nothing to her. The other Johzenji players have been doing similar stunts, not actually speaking to Shiratorizawa’s players, but expressing their disdain all the same.

It’s a big field. There’s 22 players on the grass, and only three officials to keep an eye on them all. So the next time #08 gets the ball and Natsu’s guarding her, the referee is quite far from them, and before Natsu knows it they’re both tumbling to the ground—she gets the last kick in, pushing the ball straight towards her own defender, before her legs get swept up with #08’s and they’re both eating dirt.

She hears a low curse from #08, but ignores it, lifting her head to follow the play. Natsu huffs in relief, seeing that Risako has plenty of time to hold onto the ball and let the strikers fall back and reset. #08 shoves herself to her feet when there’s no whistle blown regarding their collision, and Natsu makes to follow—then a cleated foot stomps down on her hand.

“_HEY_!” Natsu shrieks, immediately shoving at the girl with her shoulder. Her hand is already released, but she still rams into #08, furious. The pink girl yells back and falls over, cursing again. Someone yells at them. Her hand throbs. Natsu can’t bend all of her fingers. _Cleats_. On her _hand_. “What is your _problem?_!” She explodes at the girl. “What the _hell?!_”

“Hinata,_ stop it!_” Utsugi snaps from the top of the goal box. 

The pink-haired girl is livid. “REF! You’re alright with this?! She pushed me over—!”

A shrill whistle cuts through the air as Natsu gets to her feet, clutching her hand. #08 stays on the ground, flailing her arms at the referee as she jogs closer. 

“_Number 21!_” The referee barks—at _Natsu_.

Natsu turns to the official sharply. “She stepped on my hand!” Natsu hisses, lifting her right hand and flinching. It’s not just raw and pink, her hand is _bleeding_. The referee realizes it as soon as Natsu does, and blows the whistle again, signaling her coach.

“No,” Natsu says quickly, a sinking feeling in her gut. “_No_, it’s okay, I don’t need—”

“Ref, you’re just gonna let that slide? _She pushed me down!_” #08 snaps, clambering to her feet. 

“I saw it, Ref!” Another Johzenji girl hollers. “That ginger girl dragged her back to the ground!”

“No, she didn’t,” Risako snaps, glaring between the two opposing players. “Ref, Hinata’s _bleeding_, #08 obviously hurt her.”

“I didn’t do _anything!_ She pulled _me_ down—look at my jersey!”

“_Quiet_, all of you,” The referee says definitively. “You, #21, go see the trainer.”

The linesman lifts up the number board. #14 is being subbed for #21._ Nagano for Hinata. _

“No card?” Natsu looks at the referee, aghast. Her heart is beating so loudly in her ears, she can barely think over it. “Wait. What about _her?_ She stepped on my hand. Look at it!”

But she already knows why Johzenji isn’t being penalized. All that the referee saw was the initial fall, which put neither player at fault. Then #08 had ended up on the ground again, the next time the officials looked at them. Natsu wasn’t helping her case by arguing, but her hand was _bleeding_. It was intentional, _malicious_. Sabotaging your opponents was a cheap and despicable act, and if there were no consequences for Johzenji it would rattle her team. Throw off their pace for good. If they caught Shiratorizawa reeling, it wouldn’t be hard to score. 

“She _stomped_ on my _hand_,” Natsu finds herself spitting out the words, disgusted, advancing on #08. “Ref, ma’am, this is _ridiculous!_” 

The referee just blows her whistle again, gesturing sharply towards the sidelines. Nagano is already jogging onto the field to replace her. 

“_Hinata!_” Utsugi calls again, her tone sharper than ever. “Off the field, go get that looked at.”

She pulls her gaze away from the disapproving referee to give her captain an incredulous look. 

Utsugi has always been pretty unsympathetic as captain, but the expression on her face right now is downright cold. _Angry_. And Natsu can tell, without even speaking to her, that Utsugi isn’t angry with the referee. She isn’t upset with the Johzenji player. 

“_Get off the field, Hinata_.” 

Natsu complies, too shocked by the menace in Utsugi’s tone to do anything else.

* * *

Natsu doesn’t speak for the rest of the game, but the damage is done. She gets patched up and Sameshima keeps her on standby for the rest of the first half, but never puts her in. They hold on to the tenuous balance for the remainder of the match, but Aone is switched out for Hirao in the second half with little explanation. Masuya scores for Shiratorizawa, but their lead is short-lived. With ten minutes left in the match, Kunitake Aimi—who’s been simmering for half an hour, since Johzenji’s #15 elbowed her without being reprimanded—gets yellow-carded for tripping up another player and Johzenji is awarded a free kick. Hirao isn’t used to setting up the defenders against set pieces, and Johzenji scores before any of them really have time to react. 

The game ends at a 1-1 tie. Shiratorizawa is—shaken. Utsugi gives a short speech before they pile onto the bus, telling them to move on, but all Natsu can think about is the fact that Utsugi, Aone—all of the third years, really—don’t look as upset about the outcome of the match as they should be. Kunitake, Yamane, and many others look just as upset as Natsu feels. 

The bus ride home is fraught with unaddressed tension. Players break off into smaller groups to chat or text, and not a single person seems comfortable talking about the game or Johzenji’s team.

She pretends to sleep on the bus so she doesn’t have to talk to Yokoyama sitting next to her. She offers quick reassurances to anyone that asks about her hand, grins brightly as she helps them return equipment to the clubhouse, and bikes home without saying goodbye. 

Natsu… is _furious._

* * *

Tendou Satori pokes at his lunch idly, his eyes mostly glued to the new issue of Shounen Jump he’s flipping through. The table is surprisingly lacking in teammates today; both Kawanishi and Shirabu haven’t shown up, and Soekawa was somewhere in the music department with Ohira to sort out some logistics with the cheering section that usually went to their tournament games. 

Goshiki was here, but he hadn’t brought Hinata. Satori knew the soccer team had their first game yesterday, but he’d forgotten to nag Aone about who’d won. He’ll have to wait until history class to ask her, it’s the only afternoon class he has with Aone. 

Just as Satori thinks this, an alert pops up on his phone. _**New Message from**_ _🖤🔪❄️🔥🖤_

“Oho?” His lips curl up into a half-smile. Satori doesn’t immediately open the message. It’s too rare, he has to savor the moment. He considers screen-shotting it. 

“What is it?” Yamagata takes notice of his surprise. Satori doesn’t answer, just waggles his eyebrows at the libero until he gets annoyed. “Tendou, stop making faces.”

Satori feels an arm press against his shoulder, but doesn’t realize what’s happening until Ushijima speaks. “Tendou has received a LINE message from…. hm. _Black heart, knife, snowflake, fire, black heart._ I don’t recognize that combination of symbols as anyone I know.” 

Tendou locks the screen of his phone before Hayato can try to read it, and then playfully elbows Wakatoshi for reading over his shoulder. 

Semi snorts loudly. “_Black hearts_, is that a girl? Talk about _mixed signals_, Tendou.”

“Hush, you.” Satori sticks out his tongue. “Betcha don’t even have a girl’s number in your phone, Semi-Semi.” This has the desired effect of making Semi irate, and Satori takes the moment to scan across the lunchroom for someone, unsuccessfully.

“—_several_ girls—on my phone!” Semi complains predictably. Satori finally opens the message, blinking down at his phone in surprise.

“Your sisters don’t count,” Hayato puts in his two cents, smirking. “Or your mom.”

Semi growls, stabbing at his lunch. “That still leaves a few. Fuck _off_, Hayato…”

“Do you have Hinata’s number?” Tendou says aloud. He’s actually just reading out the LINE message he received, but ends up getting several answers from his teammates at the same time. 

Yamagata and Yunohama say “_No_,” Ushijima asks who Hinata is, and both Semi and Goshiki reply with a “_Yes_.”

Tendou pauses, looking back at Semi in surprise. He’s not the only one. The setter scowls at the attention from the rest of the team. “What? She _counts_, I have her number.”

“I thought it was just me and Kawanishi-san that texted her.” Goshiki pipes up, genuinely curious. “I wasn’t sure you liked her that much, or if you were just tolerating her because she’s my friend.”

The setter picks at his plate with a shrug. “She’s easy to get along with,” he says, still plenty disgruntled by the disbelieving looks aimed his way.. “Why’d you ask, Tendou?” 

“Oh, I wasn’t,” Tendou raises an eyebrow. “I was reading out the message from Yui-kun. I’m surprised she doesn’t already have Natsu-kun’s contact info herself.” 

Yamagata eyes him with suspicion. “_Yui-kun_. Of course. _She’s tutoring you, isn’t she?_”

Tendou gleefully flips him off.

“Oh,” Goshiki says warily, his eyes going wide. “You shouldn’t give Hinata’s number out. That’s the vice captain, right? Aone Yui?”

Tendou nods, eyeing the first year skeptically. “I smell somethin’ fishy going on here.” He leans towards the little bowl cut student curiously. “Where’s Natsu-kun right now?”

The first year balks. “Uh… I don’t actually know…” 

“I believe she is eating lunch with Shirabu and Kawanishi,” Ushijima, of all people, answers him. 

“Hah?” Semi stares at Ushijima, perplexed. “I get Kawanishi, but why’s _Shirabu_ there?”

The captain holds out his phone and allows Tendou and Semi to read over the messages that prove his statement.

**Ushijima:** You are not at lunch. 

_**Shirabu:** Yes, I’m busy. _

**Ushijima:** Do not skip meals.

_**Shirabu:** We’re just eating in the classroom, ask Kawanishi-kun._

**Ushijima:** I will.

Tendou switches to the messages between Wakatoshi and Taichi.

**Ushijima:** Why are you eating in your classroom?

_**Kawaii-nishi:** uhhh _

_**Kawaii-nishi:** moral support for hinata_

_**Kawaii-nishi:** it’s complicated_

_**Kawaii-nishi:** i made sure shirabu has enough food, he’s not as bad as tendou._

**Ushijima:** Thank you. I know.

Tendou makes a face at the last exchange, but Wakatoshi just looks back at him with fathomless eyes. “So,” he switches his attention back to Goshiki. “Why’s Natsu-kun hanging out with Kenjirou-kun and Taichi-kun instead of all of us?”

Goshiki takes the phone from Tendou a little too eagerly, scanning through the messages himself. But he just shakes his head, equally bemused. “I don’t know. She’s mad at Utsugi-senpai, though, because of yesterday’s game….” the first year looks unsure. “According to Ideguchi—he’s on the men’s soccer team—Hinata’s injury was _kind of_ Utsugi’s fault? Or Utsugi and Hinata disagree about the foul? Something like that. She must be avoiding the captain.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Yamagata interrupts first. “Hinata was injured? Is she alright?”

“O-Oh! Yeah, she’s fine!” Goshiki assures them. Tendou watches Semi pull out his phone from the corner of his eye, but says nothing of it. “Officially there was no foul called, but some girl stomped on Hinata’s hand—“

“What the _hell_,” Yuno exclaims around a mouthful of rice. 

“—and Hinata had to be subbed out because she was bleeding—“

“Goshiki, you just said she was alright,” Yamagata frowns. “That _doesn’t sound alright._”

The first year holds out his hands placatingly. “She’s fine! Hinata won’t even have to sit out for practice, she just needs to get notes for all her classes because she can’t write fast...”

Satori glances down at his phone when it buzzes again, still partially listening to the conversation. 

_🖤🔪❄️🔥🖤: it’s important_

**Tenderloin:** 4 u or 4 sugirumi? 👀

**Tenderloin:** ohoho i guessed right

**Tenderloin**: its not ur job to fix her problems

_🖤🔪❄️🔥🖤: i don’t want them to fight._

**Tenderloin:** rumi shouldnt start fights then ne??

**Tenderloin:** or let itty bitty first years provoke her.

**Tenderloin:** but dont mind me im just a lowly middle blocker :3

_🖤🔪❄️🔥🖤: wheres hinata?_

**Tenderloin:** 🙊🙊🙊

_🖤🔪❄️🔥🖤: tendou _

**Tenderloin:** ʅ（‾◡◝）ʃ

_🖤🔪❄️🔥🖤: fine, i’ll leave it alone._

**Tenderloin:** (⋆ˆ ³ ˆ)♥

Of course he gets no response for that one, he was pushing it with the kaomojis anyway. It’s surprising enough that she messaged him first, though it was about Hinata. Yui was notoriously uncommunicative, but that just made it all the more fun for Satori to befriend her. It was much like the way he got along with Wakatoshi, though his teammate was far more patient. There was a reason he put Yui’s name in his phone as a collection of weird emojis; she was a complicated person and their dynamic was even more confusing to most people. Still, Yui was actually a big ol’ softie at her core, same as Wakatoshi. They’d be two peas in an awkward and stoic pod.

Satori gives Ushijima a thoughtful look. 

**Tenderloin:** have u been to the new health store yet

_🖤🔪❄️🔥🖤: ?_

**Tenderloin:** on wakano street. wanna check it out? 

He pauses, poking Wakatoshi’s side. “Saturday,” he says without preamble. “Let’s go to that health store I mentioned near Wakano 3-ichomē, remember? You’d like it.”

Wakatoshi hums in agreement, looking over his shoulder again. He blinks at the visible conversation left on Tendou’s phone, reading it over neutrally. For all the work Satori has put into becoming better friends with Wakatoshi and Yui, as far as Satori knew, the two star athletes of Shiratorizawa had never met. They’d never had any classes together, and neither student did anything outside of school that didn’t relate to the sport they played. 

“...9am works,” Ushijima concedes, giving Tendou a long look that said, _You’re-trying-to-lure-me-into-something-social-but-it-will-fail-because-all-I-care-about-is-volleyball._

Well, challenge accepted, Miracle Boy. 

**Tenderloin:** 10am saturday 

“I said 9, Tendou.”

“Hush, you.” 

**Tenderloin:** meet at the bus stop, wakatoshi is coming

He puts away his phone instead of waiting for a reply. Getting Yui to agree to making plans is like pulling teeth, but he’s relatively certain she’ll cave. She’s a health nut like Wakatoshi, and he highly doubts she has anything planned for Saturday morning already. 

“So what’s with Aone?” Yamagata wonders, looking from Tendou to the phone in his hands. “Is she mad at Hinata too?”

Tendou tucks his phone away and holds up his empty hands. “Best not to interfere with soccer politics, Hayato-kun. I’m not giving away her hiding spot, either.” Tsutomu gives him a grateful look. 

“It is strange for a captain to be angry with an injured player,” Wakatoshi comments, picking at the remnants of his curry bowl. “I do not know the circumstances, but it does cast Utsugi-san in an unfavorable light.”

“_Unfavorable_, huh?” A sharp, feminine voice repeats the words from behind Tendou. All of the volleyball players freeze. Hayato and Tsutomu are facing the newcomer, and their faces are worryingly pale. “_You’re_ one to talk, Ushijima-san.”

Satori twists around in his seat to see the third year girl, grinning. “_Sugi-Rumi!_ Fancy meetin' you here!”

Utsugi Rumi is a short and stocky girl with a permanently disgruntled look on her face. Besides her expression, she’s a classical-beauty type of girl with peachy-pink skin and only the faintest tan from all the time spent outdoors. Her hair is a deep reddish-brown that she keeps tied back with red hair bands or clips, and her eyes are dark, dark brown. She wasn’t an outstanding player the way Ushijima was, but her team as a whole was formidable under her leadership and the current soccer programs at Shiratorizawa were well-funded in part due to her efforts. 

She wasn’t charming or polite or anything sweet—much like Wakatoshi—but her dedication was nothing to scoff at. (Nor was her physique. Satori didn’t miss the way Yunohama was looking at the gap between her skirt and her knee socks.)

Rumi doesn’t even react to Tendou, still staring down Ushijima without an ounce of uncertainty.

“Utsugi-san,” Wakatoshi greets her mildly. “What do you mean by that?”

Satori knows he’s being irrational, but the tension is so thick he thinks a physical fight might break out between the two captains. A fight that Rumi could probably win because Wakatoshi, _bless his innocent soul_, is either oblivious to said tension or has no fear of god. Satori hasn’t quite figured out which one it is. 

“I mean you’re not the most sympathetic captain either, Ushijima-san, so don’t make assumptions about how I operate,” Rumi says icily, picking her words with crystal clarity. “_Got it?_”

Ushijima pauses, tilting his head thoughtfully. “I apologize. That probably seemed presumptuous to you,” he admits evenly.

“It was,” Rumi says flatly, her gaze flickering past him and towards the remaining players. “Have you seen Natsu?” She asks the team at large, but her eyes are laser-focused on poor Goshiki. 

“No,” Goshiki says immediately. 

“You’re in her homeroom class,” Rumi points out, unimpressed. “_Goshiki_, right?”

“Right. Right. I—saw her… this morning,” he backtracks, not meeting her eye. “I don’t know where she is now, but—uh—she’ll… she has practice? Later? With you?”

“That’s right,” Tendou cuts in, leaning on one arm. “Why not wait until you see her in practice, _Sugi-Rumi?_”

“I didn’t ask for your opinion,” Rumi replies. “Do any of you know where Natsu is right now?”

“Nope,” Semi answers for them all, crossing his arms. His phone is face-down on the table. “She doesn’t eat lunch here every day. Haven’t seen her.”

Rumi stares at him. Semi struggles to stare back without breaking. He’s not good under pressure from girls. To be fair, no one’s good under pressure from a girl like Utsugi Rumi. No wonder Natsu fled.

“Alright,” Rumi says at last, turning on her heel. She offers no farewell as she leaves. 

The six teammates exchange bewildered looks. Hayato shudders. “That was _terrifying_.”

“No shit,” Eita grumbles. There’s actually sweat on his brow when he goes to wipe his face. Goshiki has also broken out into a cold sweat.

“I think I’m in love,” Yunohama discloses, rubbing his neck. “No one told me Hinata’s captain was fucking _hot_.”

“Y-Yunohama-san!” Goshiki stammers, blushing. “You’re crazy.”

Hayato slaps the back of the pinch server’s head. “Do you have a death wish, Yuno?”

But the second year just stares down at his tray of food, unabashed. “I guess I do. She could kill me and I’d thank her. God, her _thighs_....”

Semi, Tendou, Ushijima and Yamagata share concerned looks. The underclassmen simply don’t understand how frightening the girls in their year are. 

Alas, Tendou was never one to smother the hopes and dreams of his kouhai. “Oh, Yuno-kun…” He shakes his head. “I fully support your suicidal mission. I’ll find out what kind of chocolates she likes.” 

He and Yunohama fist-bump.

* * *

Kenjirou doesn’t know how he ended up in this mess, but here he is, playing the intermediary between an angry blond and a salty ginger while also hiding Hinata behind his desk by angling himself in his chair, trying to eat a damn sandwich in peace. As unlikely as it sounds, it’s worked out so far because Ikejiri Mayu, another third year on the soccer team, hadn’t bothered to step past the threshold of the classroom to search for Hinata when she scouted through this hallway. 

The situation is not ideal, obviously. And of course Kawanishi chose to stash his little sister in _Kenjirou’s_ homeroom—’to throw people off their scent’—which also happens to be _Kunitake Aimi’s_ homeroom, and the two of them are caught in a cycle of hissing at each other like stray cats behind a dumpster instead of figuring out what to do with Hinata.

Hinata, who is having a very hard time eating a bowl of rice and chicken with her non-dominant hand. It’s actually kind of sad, which is probably why Kenjirou caved in the first place. She insists that her right hand doesn’t hurt anymore, but it’s bundled up with gauze because at least three of her fingers had been bleeding yesterday. And Kenjirou knows it’d been her very first official game, too. What a shitty start to the season. 

“Tell me again why you’re still here, Kunitake?” Kawanishi grumbles from the seat he’s claimed near the front of the room. “Aren’t your little horned friends waiting for you back in _hell?_”

“Very _cute_, Kawanishi. How long did it take for you to think of that one, a month? _Two?_ Oh don’t bother answering, I don’t want to go grey waiting for you to speak up.”

Kenjirou leans backwards in his seat and speaks in a low tone for Hinata. “Are you sure your captain’s actually mad at you? It seems unlikely.” Perhaps he’s biased, but he can’t imagine Ushijima ever getting so mad at him that he’d be hunted down by third years at lunch. 

The first year looks up from where she’s huddled on the ground. “She is, and… I don’t want to argue with her, but I’m mad too.”

“_And so am I_,” Kunitake interrupts, shooting one last glare at Kawanishi before slinking back into her seat by the window. She flips her hair back with a scowl. “I’m the only player that was carded in the match, and anyone with working eyes _knows_ it was the wrong call.”

“We gave up a _goal_ because of that call,” Hinata adds bitterly. “Hirao wasn’t ready for a set piece, and they knew it.”

“Yui shouldn’t have been taken out, there must’ve been four or five set pieces in our half at that point. And it’s all because _Rumi_ doesn’t have the balls to challenge the referee,” Kunitake continues, rolling her eyes. 

Kenjirou stares at Kunitake in astonishment. He wasn’t keen on talking to Kunitake, and literally never spoke to her in class, but he can’t help but be curious. “You _argue_ with the ref? Talking back to the referee would get us kicked off the court.”

The blonde girl arches an eyebrow at him, equally surprised to be addressed by Kenjirou. “If you’ve ever watched a single soccer match in your entire life, you’d know that we _always argue with the ref_,” she says disdainfully. “God, you volleyball nerds know _nothing_.”

“Aimi-san,” Hinata admonishes. Her bowl of rice nearly slips out of her hand, though, and she’s too distracted to continue the conversation. 

Kenjirou looks at the blonde with equal dislike. “Ugh. No wonder Kawanishi can’t stand you,” he mutters. 

She looks taken aback for all of half a second before she smirks. “Oh, _Shira-baby,_ you think you can hurt my feelings?” Kunitake simpers. “Try harder next time.”

Kenjirou shudders. “Please don’t ever call me that again or I’ll be forced to bleach my brain.”

“Um, well—” Hinata makes a pitiful noise when the rice falls off her spoon. “There’s more leeway in soccer,” the first year speaks up, trying to adjust her grip on the utensil while steering the conversation away from disaster. Kenjirou contemplates the second half of his sandwich. “The referees can’t see _everything_ that happens on the field, so they do listen to the players _sometimes_. Especially the captain! She has more authority than the rest of us.”

Kawanishi takes pity on Hinata and hands her a packet of pocky, wordlessly gifting her the rest of his snack. Hinata beams at him, and Kawanishi just nods.

Kunitake throws the two of them a thinly-veiled look of disgust at the display of friendship. “Anyway, Rumi kind of warned us about Johzenji, but—let’s be real. She said two words and left us to fend for ourselves. If she was so concerned about those shitty-haired girls messing up our play-style, why didn’t she tell us more about them?_ Simplicity and Fortitude,_ my ass. I didn’t even know about their #05 until she was out there bulldozing down Nagano. Fucking _gorilla girl_.”

Kenjirou catches Kawanishi’s eye briefly, unnerved by Kunitake’s foul mouth._ I’ve never seen her like this,_ Kenjirou says with his expression. _Oh she can get much worse_, Kawanishi seems to reply. 

“_Aimi-san_,” Hinata says again, sounding disappointed. “That’s too harsh. I don’t like Johzenji either, but you’re just being mean.”

The blonde student just shrugs, but refrains from any further insults. 

“I don’t know what I’ll say to Utsugi-senpai at practice,” Hinata murmurs, deciding to drop the issue of Kunitake’s rudeness for now. “But she hasn’t been giving us the full picture. _None_ of us have been talking about it. Aimi-san, what was it like playing Johzenji last year?”

Kunitake rolls her eyes so hard Kenjirou is surprised they don’t fall right out of her head. “You think_ I_ was a regular last year? _Rumi_ wasn’t even a regular until last _winter_. She was even more of a bitch when she was second-string. _Everyone_ was surprised when the third years chose her to be captain over Yui.”

Hinata nearly chokes on her drink. “Hang on, _Aone_ was supposed to be_ captain?_ What?”

Kunitake flaps a hand at the girl carelessly. “Well, no. After Aone tore her ACL she wasn’t eligible to be captain—”

“_Aone tore her ACL?!_” Hinata squeaks, horrified. “No one’s mentioned that either, Aimi-san!”

Kenjirou grimaces at the thought. An ACL injury could easily end an athlete's career before it began. Privately, he vows to stretch for an extra five minutes before his afternoon practice. He can see Kawanishi subtly flexing his calves and assumes he’s thinking the same thing. 

“Honestly, Natsu. Don’t you ever listen to me?”

“No,” Hinata answers with a frustrated frown, “You keep shipping first years with the _swim team_.”

Kunitake clicks her tongue, but doesn’t dispute this point. Kenjirou has to concentrate a lot to stop himself from laughing. “What can I say? It’s a lot less depressing than talking about Aone almost quitting the team and Rumi turning into a beast to keep up with our reputation. I’d much rather talk about, hm, I don’t know, _Osaka Keisuke?_” She peers at Kawanishi emphatically. “Wouldn’t _you?_”

Kenjirou is lost. “Who the fuck is _Osaka?_”

Kawanishi shrugs with one shoulder, taking another languid bite out of his onigiri. “Beats me.”

“Is it Usami Takashi?” The blonde girl presses onward, unfazed. He doesn’t know why Kunitake is looking at Kawanishi like _that_, but Kenjirou _does_ know Usami, vaguely. He’s in Kenjirou’s chemistry class, and he’s obnoxiously tall—

Hinata makes a weird squawking noise and fumbles with her carton of orange juice. “A-Aimi-san!” She says loudly, “You were talking about Utsugi and Aone. _What happened last year?_ And Johzenji?”

Kunitake reluctantly pulls her eyes away from Kawanishi, frowning at Hinata. “There’s a reason we don’t talk about it, Natsu. New year, new team. It’s in the past.”

Hinata stares at Kunitake like she has two heads.

“I’m calling bullshit,” Kawanishi announces flatly. “You never pass up the chance to gossip.”

The blonde girl shoots a brief glare at Kawanishi. “This isn’t about gossip.” She glances at Hinata. “Only way you’ll know is if Rumi buckles down and actually tells the team what she’s thinking. So, _never_.”

“Well that doesn’t help me… I just want to know why she’s been acting so weird with us.” Hinata is quiet for a moment, and Kenjirou can’t tell if it’s because she’s thinking about what Kunitake said or because she can’t seem to pick up more than four grains of rice on her spoon. Her phone buzzes, and Hinata groans, carefully setting her bowl on Kenjirou’s desk (which he did _not_ say she had permission to do, but Kawanishi is giving him a _look_), so she can take out her phone and read the message. 

Kenjirou silently considers the almost-full bowl of rice and chicken, and then the untouched half of his tuna salad sandwich, weighing his options. 

“Oi,” Hinata says suddenly, scrutinizing her phone. “Who told Semi about me? I know I told Goshiki not to bring it up.”

“Why the hell would I text _Semi?_” Kenjirou wrinkles his nose in annoyance. “Additionally, why the hell are _you_ texting Semi?”

She shrugs passively. “Guess I get along with him better than you do, Shirabu-san.” 

Kenjirou doesn’t know why, but her answer makes him even more annoyed.

“I mentioned you when Ushijima texted me,” Kawanishi admits. “But to be honest I didn’t think he remembered who Hinata was.”

Kenjirou would think the first year would feel offended at that, but she just nods in understanding. “Well, Semi’s asking about Utsugi now.” Her phone dings again with a new message. “Oh. Utsugi actually went up to your lunch table to figure out where I was. That doesn’t sound good, I feel like our captains don’t like each other...”

“Should we relocate?” Kawanishi muses. “I don’t want to, I’m in the middle of a worksheet.”

The orange-haired girl shakes her head. “Goshiki says they didn’t tell her where we were, so I think we’re safe. Also, Yunohama-san… “ Hinata makes a face. “_Really?_ Utsugi-san?”

Kenjirou looks at Kawanishi, askance, but the middle blocker just shrugs. Kunitake seems to catch on, though. 

“That buzz-cut guy? That’s just in poor taste.”

“I kind of feel bad,” Hinata murmurs. “Don’t tell the captain. He’ll be killed.”

“Some guys are into that.” Kunitake goes back to reading on her phone. “I won’t say anything, I want to see him try. I’ll bring popcorn.”

Kenjirou is thoroughly lost again, but at least this time Kawanishi is right there with him. “Do I even _want_ to know what you’re talking about?” Kenjirou wonders aloud. “What happened to Yunohama?”

“I feel like I should be defending him,” Kawanishi adds. 

“Your teammate has fallen victim to Rumi’s nonexistent charm.” Kunitake almost sounds sad. “Definitely not a ship I can support.”

“You shouldn’t ship real people anyway,” Hinata covers her face in shame, and then she mumbles something else about shipping, and Kenjirou swears she mentions Semi, but he has no idea why she would. 

“I’ve been telling Kunitake that for months,” Kawanishi deadpans. “But she doesn’t have any human decency.”

“Don’t talk to me about human decency when you don’t even comb your hair,” Kunitake snips back. "You look terrible, by the way. Did you just roll out of bed?"

"And yet you wanted to date me. Raise your standards, Kunitake."

"You're literally insulting yourself, _carrot-top_."

"Am I though?"

Kunitake lets out a frustrated little scream.

Kenjirou goes back to tuning them out. Hinata scoots a chair over to his desk and picks up her food again, scowling in concentration at her spoon. 

“Do you like tuna?” He asks her suddenly. 

“Hm?” 

Kenjirou gently reaches over and swaps her bowl of rice for the rest of his sandwich. “I’m getting tired of fish,” he says belatedly, ignoring the skeptical look Hinata gives him. “I couldn’t keep watching you struggle with basic motor skills, either. It’s only funny for so long.”

Hinata gives a single huff of laughter, but says nothing more. The two of them eat quietly and watch Kawanishi and Kunitake toss insults at each other for the rest of the lunch period. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (this is part one of the johzenji drama, it'll be resolved later on ;P)
> 
> Here's me introducing my crack ship... not just the (doomed to fail) Yunohama/Utsugi ship, but the OT3, Tendou/Ushijima/Aone Yui. Because UshiTen is life but my girl Yui is amazing and Tendou knows what's up. (Aone Yui is a fictional older sister to Dateko's Aone Takanobu!)
> 
> Also I swear I'm not trying to make this a reverse-harem for Natsu, but you can bet your ass Aimi noticed that Shirabu and Natsu had an indirect kiss by sharing their lunches AND Natsu regularly texts Semi now, whom she uses no honorifics for (bc she has no respect for Semi now lmao). Basically what I'm saying is, slowly but surely, the entire vball team is going to dote on Natsu either platonically or romantically without realizing it
> 
> Last note: Kawanishi's name in almost everyone's phone is "Kawaii-nishi" and it's not a typo, he typed it in himself. He's in Natsu's contacts as "Kawaii-niisan".


	14. to be the best

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Shiratorizawa’s starting lineup for the girls’ soccer team:**  
Yamane Erina - 2nd year, Striker — alt: Kurishima Akari, 3rd year   
Sugasawa Yuika - 3rd year, Striker — alt: Matsuya Rika, 2nd year  
Iwabuchi Mana - 3rd year, Striker  
Ikejiri Mayu - 3rd year, Midfielder  
Sakaguchi Mizuho - 3rd year, Midfielder  
Nakajima Emi - 2nd year, Midfielder   
Kunitake Aimi - 2nd year, Defender — alt: Nagano Fuka, 3rd year  
Sugita Hina - 2nd year, Defender — alt: Hinata Natsu, 1st year  
Ariyoshi Saori - 1st year, Defender — alt: Takahashi Hana, 2nd year  
Utsugi Rumi - Captain, Sweeper  
Aone Yui - Vice Captain, Goalkeeper — alt: Hirao Chika, 1st year
> 
> Reserve players (that have names lmao):  
Kitamura Nanami - 1st year, Sweeper  
Yokoyama Kumi - 1st yeah, Striker  
Ichise Nana - 2nd year, Sweeper  
Oga Risako - 2nd year, Defender

Utsugi doesn’t even look at Hinata during practice. But she doesn’t seem to be looking at anyone at all, not even while she’s instructing the next exercise or organizing the players into 3-v-3 teams. She goes through her duties impassively, her frown a fixed point on her face, as constant as any other law of nature. 

The whispered conversations continue; the looks exchanged between friends increases with each water break. 

Yui _knew_ this would happen. 

It’s annoying to think, but Tendou had a point. Yui can’t stick around and hold Rumi’s hand while she confronted the team. She stood by the captain’s choices, but it wasn’t Yui’s job to speak for her or resolve conflicts she’s started. And more importantly, the captain’s not the only one dwelling on the Johzenji match. There’s a dejected first year goalie who gave up a goal in the very first game of the season that Yui ought to speak with. Rumi dug her own hole with the way she treated Hinata and Kunitake, but the goalkeeper was _her_ responsibility.

She gives her captain one last parting glare, willing the defender to look up and acknowledge it, but it’s no use. Rumi’s equally, if not more stubborn than Yui. She turns her attention to Hirao Chika, the tall and uncertain girl who’ll have to pick up the slack if (_when_) Yui is out of commission. 

“Hirao,” she begins, passing a water bottle to the girl on the bench. The first year’s head snaps up in an instant, eyes wide as saucers. Honestly. The second year girls hyped up Aone Yui far beyond what she deserves, and it intimidates their youngest players into speechlessness in front of their goalkeeper. 

“Y-y-yes, Aone-senpai?!” Hirao stammers, brushing her bangs away. “Do you need something? Did I do something?”

Yui sighs. It’s going to be a long practice.

* * *

It seemed, at first, like the whole team had collectively chosen to push past their infuriating first game with Johzenji. Natsu included. She brushes off any concerns over her hand, and kept herself focused on their drills. But as time ticked by, she caught more and more tense expressions on her teammates’ faces. She overhears Aimi and Nakajima whispering heatedly at the bench, only to shut up when a third year jogged over. Natsu watches Aone pull aside Hirao for goalie training, but all they seemed to do was pass a ball between them and talk. 

As the end of practice rolls around, it seems like the lines have been drawn. Aone and Hirao are still talking by the goal, collecting training cones. The third year starters, Iwabuchi, Utsugi, Sugasawa, and Sakaguchi, are standing in a semi-circle that blocks them off from the rest of the team. Ikejiri Mayu is also a third year starter, but she’s known for being apathetic towards most of the team, so it isn’t surprising that she’s ignoring the tension between players.

The only people who didn’t seem affected by their first game is Oga Risako, a second year defender who smugly informed them all she had a date with a blonde-haired Johzenji student; and Ichise Nana, her closest friend on the team, who loudly opposed Risako’s budding relationship with a 'delinquent'. 

Natsu hadn’t even _noticed_ Oga talking to anyone during yesterday’s game. There’d been a couple of Johzenji students sitting in the bleachers, evidently, and one of them struck up a conversation with Oga and ended up exchanging phone numbers with her. It’s a common occurrence on the girls’ team—every girls’ team that Natsu has ever been on—to talk about crushes and cute boys. Natsu doesn’t think she’ll ever have the courage to tell a whole convocation of Shiratorizawa eagles about something so personal.

If Natsu had to choose, she’d rather confess her deepest secrets to Semi Eita rather than fess up to a group of girls. 

Natsu gets along with guys for a _reason_. Though she’s still beyond embarrassed about what happened with Semi, he’s kind of tactful about it. Maybe it’s specifically because _Natsu’s_ a girl, but her guy friends—Ideguchi on the soccer team, Wataru and Koji from junior high, and now most of Goshiki’s team—knew _boundaries_. 

But girls? Her_ team?_ They can't help but _meddle_. It only took two weeks of classes before Aimi started on her case about Goshiki. Even the well-meaning ones, like Hirao and Yokoyama, can’t keep a secret to save their life. Or they were intentionally evil, like Ikejiri and whatever dirt she had on Ariyoshi that was keeping the scary first year in line. Aone and Utsugi seemed more trustworthy, but Natsu wasn’t on good terms with them right now.

Not that Natsu had anything to confess. This was all hypothetical.

Oga Risako, however, _thrived_ on girl talk. She wanted _everyone’s_ opinion on the matter, her excitement bubbling out of her almost uncontrollably. So even though Natsu has no stake in Oga’s love life, she falls into the debate anyway, because it’s the only good thing that came out of the Johzenji game.

“But he’s so _cute_, Nana!” Oga complains, elbowing Ichise. “And his hair is cool. He bleached it himself.”

Ichise rolls her eyes. “He’s _dumb_. I’ve seen his texts, he can’t even spell ‘school’ properly. You could do so much better.”

“He’s on the volleyball team, too!” Oga insists, suddenly looking at Natsu. “Come on. _You_ like volleyball players too, right Hinata?”

Natsu looks back at the defender in surprise. “I don’t,” she refutes, maybe a little too quickly, but all she can think about is that time she ran into a lamppost, so she also ends up saying, “But that probably means he’s in good shape, huh.”

“_Hinata_,” Ichise whines, but Oga jumps on the statement with zeal. 

“He’s _very_ fit,” Oga declares seriously. “Like, if I had to compare him, he’s a lot like _Maya-kun_.”

“Physically, yes,” Ichise interrupts. “But he’s a bit much. He probably skips school and steals liquor from his parents.”

“He’s like Maya-kun on _crack_,” Oga revises. Ichise is not convinced this is a good thing.

Sugita Hina, on the other hand, hums with appreciation. Natsu gives her a questioning look. “She means the captain of the boy’s soccer team, Yoshida Maya,” Sugita explains. “He lets everyone call him Maya-kun.”

Natsu raises her eyebrows. “Captain Yoshida? _Oh_…”

“Yeah,” Sugita nods in agreement.

They’ve had two joint practices with the boys’ team so far. Yoshida Maya is the polar opposite of Utsugi Rumi, a fun-loving captain that takes risks and lets his team run wild. He’s the cool guy of Shiratorizawa, and his energy was infectious. 

Natsu doesn’t want her _own_ captain to be like Yoshida, but he was probably loads of fun to hang out with. And maybe also date, because he was fun and silly and… uh, _in very good shape. _

(There’s been discussion, in the girls’ locker room, about how soon the summer heat wave will become too much to bear. Because when it’s too hot outside, the boys’ team refuses to wear pinnies to differentiate teams during practice because they don’t want to wear more than one layer of clothes. Instead, they postpone their scrimmage until after hours, without their coach or trainers present, and play _shirts versus skins_ in the public park.)

Natsu directs her full attention back to her water bottle. She’s seen enough _skin_ to fulfill any curiosity she had about high school boys...

“Let’s ask the experts,” Ichise urges, pushing the group towards the other girls around the water station. “Akari! Ike! Hana!” Ichise points to each girl firmly. “Tell us if this ‘_Terushima_’ guy is boyfriend material or not.”

Oga’s face drops. “This is _unfair_. This is a biased group. Hana doesn’t even _have_ a boyfriend right now.”

Takahashi Hana narrows her eyes at Oga. “Only because he wasn’t boyfriend material anymore. Let’s see those messages.”

“No!” Oga scowls as Ichise hands over her phone. “Let me live, oh my god!”

“This is for your own good,” Ichise intones. “I don’t want you to get all depressed again when he disappoints.”

“I met Daisuke at an indoor soccer arena!” Kurishima Akari says helpfully, running fingers through her blonde hair to re-pin her bangs. “He’s so hot! Isn’t he hot, Ikejiri? Plus, it’s nice to share a passion with someone, he understands how busy I am. You know he bought me flowers for my birthday? And oh my gosh, he was so cute when I told him I was on my period, he gave me chocolate and....” 

The rest of the girls begin to tune her out. Kunitake and Nakajima are closer friends with Kurishima, but even they look a little exhausted as she lists Daisuke’s endless good traits.

Ikejiri gives them an uninterested look, eyes half-lidded, as she picks at a dirt stain on her jersey. “My love life is none of your damn business.”

“Mysterious as ever, Ike-Ike!” Yamane howls, giving her a hearty pat on the back. 

“_Too_ mysterious,” Ariyoshi mutters, cocking an eyebrow. “Does this boyfriend even _exist?_”

“YOSHI!” Yamane smacks the back of her head. “Respect your senpai!”

Ariyoshi mutters something vaguely threatening. Ikejiri gives no reaction at all, simply taking a sip of water thoughtfully. “It’s okay. Better to have a private, loving relationship than to pine after, oh, who was it? Kou… no, _Ken—_?”

“Alright! I get it, _shut up,_” Ariyoshi interrupts loudly, throwing her hands up. “I was joking, _shit_, Ike...”

Her teammates laugh, and Natsu gives a nervous chuckle before stepping back. The kind of information she might accidentally get from this conversation doesn’t seem worth the wrath of players like Ikejiri and Ariyoshi. Natsu prefers the bliss of ignorance. She’d be much better off, for example, if she was totally oblivious to the new crush Yunohama had on her captain.

Oh, Yunohama. Natsu really wishes that Semi hadn’t told her about that. It’s her own fault for letting Aimi know too, but Natsu hadn’t counted on Semi giving her a play-by-play of Utsugi Rumi frightening the volleyball team into submission. 

“Y’know,” Hana begins, her head tilted to the side as she considers the smartphone in her hands. She doesn’t say anything else, but Oga lights up, already able to tell that Hana is on her side.

“_Yes!_ Hana, he’s cool!”

“I dunno about _cool_, but I’m not seeing anything _bad_ here…”

“No,” Ichise snaps, pulling the phone away. “No, you’re _not_ here to _approve of Terushima_.”

Hana shrugs, placing her hands on her hips. “A coffee date couldn’t hurt.”

Oga whoops, pumping a fist. “Hana, you’re beautiful, Satoshi didn’t deserve you anyway.” Ichise groans. “Nanaaa! You have to help me pick out an outfit!” Ichise groans louder.

A few more girls approach the benches, carrying the last of their supplies from practice. Sameshima calls for their attention, giving the players a few parting words about tomorrow’s morning practice before instructing Utsugi to lead the rest of the clean up. 

* * *

Sameshima leaves, and Natsu’s team seems to ice over, leaving nothing but a frigid atmosphere. 

It all goes down very quickly from that point on.

Utsugi finally parts from the trio of third years, looking over the team with a small frown. “We’re having a team meeting in the clubroom in thirty minutes. If you want to get changed or shower, do it quickly, but I want everyone present.” She pauses, her eyes stopping on Aone before skirting away.

“Hinata. Kunitake. Hirao. Follow me.” The captain turns on her heel, heading towards the clubhouse. 

“_Why_.”

Aimi’s question makes her stop short. It’s obvious that Utsugi is stiff as a board, almost shaking with tension trying not to snap at the second year. “We need to discuss your behavior.”

“MY behavior?” Aimi all but shrieks, shattering any facade of normalness the team’s been wearing since they tied Johzenji. “Whatever you have to say about my behavior, you can say to _all_ of us, Rumi. I’m _not_ the one that needs an attitude adjustment.”

“Aimi-san,” Hirao says quietly, holding her arm. “C’mon.” The goalie’s been downcast all day, but there’s a lightness to her eyes now that she’s spoken with Aone. Natsu can’t help but feel a little jealous. Everyone knows that Aone is better with controlling team morale, and ever since Aimi brought up how Aone could’ve been captain, Natsu can’t help but wonder _what if. _

Aimi doesn’t pull her arm away, but she throws Hirao an annoyed look. “_You_ might be over that goal, but _I’m not._”

Hirao shies away from Aimi, hurt flashing in her eyes. Natsu hates this. Of course Hirao isn’t over it, it’d been her first game, just like Natsu.

Aimi ignores her for the captain. “Rumi, _where were you?_” The blonde girl demands, suddenly pointing a finger at Natsu. “Where were you, when Natsu got cleated? Where were you when I was getting my jersey pulled by #15? Where were you while Emi was getting trash-talked by Jozenji’s defenders, or when Yamane got tripped up by #05?”

“Kunitake,” Utsugi says in warning, but Aimi goes for the killing blow next. 

“Where were you when Hirao was setting up a wall, ten minutes into playing her first game, trying to prepare for a free kick she’s never faced before?” Aimi demands, brushing hair out of her eyes. “Oh, that’s right. You were too busy _rolling over_ for the referee, pretending not to hear the shit Johzenji was saying about your team. The least you could do is _let us have some dignity_.”

Natsu has never wanted to sink into the floor more than she does right now. 

“Aimi, drop it,” Yamane pipes up, grimacing. Despite being their loudest player, Yamane Erina has been pretty quiet about the whole affair so far. As their top scorer, she’d been a starter before even Utsugi was. 

Natsu is beginning to see a pattern. 

Iwabuchi, Sakaguchi and the other starters from last year have been the least contentious on the team. They’re not happy about how the game went, but they aren’t furious the way Aimi is. They knew something about this team that the rest of the players didn't. Aimi was right, at lunch, when she told Natsu there were things that Utsugi would never tell them... 

“C’mon guys, let’s head to the lockers,” Sakaguchi suggests, herding the rest of the team towards the building. 

Yokoyama follows the older girls. So do most of the second years, except for Nakajima Emi and Sugita Hina. Aone and Ikejiri leave, but Nagano Fuka, who replaced Natsu in the game after her injury, stays put. Sugasawa looks torn, but walks off with Iwabuchi, the other starting forward. 

More lines drawn in the sand, pulling apart the team. 

_You're making it worse, Captain._

Emi stays for Aimi, Nagano stays because Sakaguchi leaves, Kurishima stays because Nagano doesn’t leave. Yamane only leaves because Aone does, but Yokoyama leaves because it’s what the second years are doing. 

It’s confusing. Natsu doesn’t want to keep track of these kinds of things. 

Utsugi stares at the stragglers. “Go. I’ll talk to you all in a few minutes,” she insists, rather half-heartedly. 

“Is every game going to be like this with you?” Ariyoshi asks impatiently, refusing to move from the bench. “You’re not a coward, and it won’t kill you to talk back to the ref. What’s wrong with wanting a fair game?”

“No game is _fair_,” Utsugi rumbles, hands balling into familiar, angry fists. “There’s _always_ a team with a better chance than the other one. Someone is always favored, someone’s always got the advantage.”

Hirao picks her head up, eyeing the captain. “So, what? You _expected_ them to score on me? Did you expect a draw? A _loss?_”

The captain’s expression shifts to something closer to guilt. “Hirao, I should’ve handled the free kick better than that. You’ll be working more closely with Aone to—”

“Why did you pull Aone out in the first place?” Aimi interrupts, stepping in front of the goalie. “She wasn’t injured, wasn’t fatigued. It was a lousy decision to try a new keeper, our defense had holes. _Is she still recovering or not?_”

Aggravated, Utsugi shuts her eyes briefly before answering. “She’s recovered. I made the call to pull her out."

"Why?"

"Johzenji was getting more aggressive. Aone had to come off the goal line _eight times_ in the first half," Rumi explains tightly. "Usually, if a goalie collides with a player, the referee will side with the goalie more readily. Aone _knows_ that’s not the case for her. She's bigger and stronger than most high school keepers, that's just a fact. If a foul was called on her, in a match with Johzenji, I was certain it would mean a penalty kick for them.” She looks back at Hirao with a nod. “That’s not to say I wasn’t worried about you too, Hirao. But Johzenji backed off when you came in, didn’t they? They weren't as physical with you, because the referee would favor the smaller player.”

Hirao gives a short, hesitant nod. “And… Aone-san got her injury in a match like this one, right?”

“Yeah. That too.” Utsugi gives them a terse, brittle smile. “Against Inarizaki High, in round two in Kyoto.” 

Kyoto is where they held the national tournament last season. The location changes each autumn, rotating between different regions with the proper field space to hold multiple games a day. 

“And then Utsugi got red-carded in the next game,” Nagano adds, casting the captain a sympathetic look. “And we lost to Nohebi Academy _5 - 1_.”

Natsu is floored. Utsugi is glaring at the grass now. _That’s…. that’s… _

“That’s _not_ an excuse.”

The team goes so quiet, you could hear a pin drop. Natsu stands, paralyzed, not quite sure if she spoke or if this is a nightmare playing out in real time.

Utsugi stares at her. Perhaps she’s also in shock, because she isn’t ripping Natsu to pieces just yet. “What do you mean?”

Natsu looks up at the captain blankly. “That probably sounds rude. Uh.” Natsu flounders. “But, Utsugi-san. That was last year. Last year doesn’t _matter_ anymore. You’re not a cautious player. I don’t think you were elected captain so you could _be_ cautious. Maybe that’s what last year’s team was like, maybe that’s what they needed—but _we’re not them_.”

There’s a beat of emptiness between them, in which Natsu internally begins to write her own will before her teammates speak up.

“Hinata has a point. You’re captain now,” Nakajima says. “You can do what you want, and in the end, we’re going to follow, but. New year, new group chat—and new _team_, Utsugi.”

Utsugi cringes at the cheesy line she used in the group chat. “Yeah,” she says doubtfully, rubbing her neck. 

“We’re not gonna lose to freakin’ _Nohebi_ as long as _I’m_ on the field,” Ariyoshi snaps fiercely. “And do you really think any referee is gonna look _Hinata_ in the face and red-card _her?_ She’s a _shrimp_. Let her throw a tantrum on the field once in a while.”

Natsu splutters. “Wh—hey, Ariyoshi,” she protests. “I’m not small. I’m above-average height! And I wasn't throwing a—!”

“Who _cares?_” The defender scowls at Natsu. “You have a baby face, Hinata.”

“_I’m two months older than you!_” 

“If anyone else besides Hinata had _pushed_ another player on the field, they’d be carded,” someone else adds. “I mean, that’s how they got Aimi.”

“You’re too innocent to get in trouble.”

Natsu gapes. “Is it _Pick On Natsu Day_?! You all think I’m wimpy?!”

Nakajima cocks her head to the side. “That’s not at all what we’re saying, though?”

“Shush!” 

“Enough,” Utsugi huffs before Ariyoshi can say anything more. She runs a hand over her face and then looks over the collection of players. “What the hell is this group? I should’ve just kept everyone on the field for this shit,” Utsugi mumbles irritably. “The last thing I want to do is sabotage our chances of making it to the final rounds in Nationals, because last year—last year it really was on me. You get it, right? We ended our run because_ I lost my temper_.”

Thorny vines wrap around Natsu’s heart, tightening painfully. To accept the blame entirely like that… _I’d break under that kind of burden._

“This is my last chance at Nationals,” the captain continues quietly. “There’s the spring tournament as well, but the third years are retired by then unless we get scouted. This team deserves to win it all. I can see our path so clearly, I…” she flushes. Natsu’s never heard Utsugi sound so gentle before, but she’s intimately familiar with the yearning in her expression. “I’m just doing my best, everyone. _I want us to be the best._ I hope it’s enough.”

The silence lengthens between them. Natsu’s mind is blazing with hurt and wonder and respect.

This whole argument is so silly. 

Sugita coughs. “Natsu, are you crying?”

Rumi looks at her skeptically. Everyone else turns to her as well.

Natsu sobs, and runs at Utsugi. “_CAPTAIN! I’LL DO MY BEST TOO!_”

They almost topple over from the force of the collision, but Utsugi keeps her footing and catches the first year haphazardly. “_Seriously?_” Utsugi mutters, stiff as a board. Natsu doesn’t care. She already knew the captain was bad with emotions, so it doesn’t surprise her in the least that she can’t hug properly. That’s why Natsu’s here. 

“THEY’RE HUGGING NOW?” Someone shouts from afar. “_I WANT IN_.”

Utsugi shifts, peering over Natsu’s shoulder. “No. _Yamane_, no—”

The second year striker leaps onto Natsu’s back, and the three of them come even closer to keeling over. 

“Are we doing a group hug now?” Kurishima wonders eagerly. 

Iwabuchi laughs. “Hell yeah we are. Yoshi, don’t run away.”

“_Ugh_,” Ariyoshi whines. “No thanks, no one’s showered yet.”

“Ike, you too!” Oga insists. Natsu can’t see much now, but one by one, she can feel her teammates piling onto the hug.

“There are too many people for this…”

“I can’t breathe!”

“Someone take a picture!!”

* * *

Goshiki is in the common room of the boys’ dormitory that night, slaving away over a chapter on molecular biology alongside a few other team members. They were all working on different assignments, but it was nice to be around the other players anyway. Ohira was nice enough to call for study breaks once in a while, and Soekawa paid for snacks (though he forced Goshiki and Sagae to go out to the vending machines and fetch them).

A phone buzzes, but Goshiki’s eyes are fixed on the page, scribbling out notes on important terms. So it’s Umeda, a second year middle blocker, that scoops up the phone. 

And while it’s true that Goshiki put a passcode lock on his phone, it is also true that his password is 1-1-1-1.

Umeda isn’t a particularly nosy guy. He is, however, very close with Akakura. “Huh,” he says lightly, glancing up at Akakura.

Akakura Kai is exceptionally nosy. He looks at the familiar red phone in Umeda’s hands, and raises both hands surreptitiously. 

Umeda lobs it at the first year, who catches it soundlessly. Akakura flips open the phone, leaning back so that Yunohama can look at the screen from over his shoulder. 

_ **Good news, Rumi didn’t kill anyone!** _   
_ **Bad news, I’m on the starting roster...** _

Akakura shares a questioning look with Yunohama. It’d be wrong to pose as Goshiki, they already know she doesn’t approve of them snooping around. But the bowl-cut boy is really intent on studying and hasn’t even noticed his phone was gone…. Besides, Hinata was their friend too, so… 

**hey, why is that bad? - Kai **   
**Does Rumi like Adidas or Nike? - Yuno**

The response comes a few minutes later, just when they start to think Hinata is ignoring them.

_She calls the phone. _

“Shit!” Yunohama tries to slap the phone out of Akakura’s hands. “_Get rid of it!_”

“What do you mean, get rid of it?!” The first year snaps, pulling the phone out of reach. “She already knows it’s us.”

“What’re you two doing?” Soekawa glares at them.

“Put your phone away, we’re trying to study,” Semi adds irritably. 

Goshiki finally looks up from his textbook, blinking. Realization dawns on his face. “_Is that my phone again?!_”

“Nope,” Yuno answers in a heartbeat, quickly swiping the phone out of Akakura’s hands and rejecting the call. “Nothing to see here.”

Goshiki stands, holding out a hand for his phone. “_Who was calling me??_” 

“It was a spam call,” Akakura blurts out, leaning away from the wing spiker. “Nothing important. I can’t even unlock your phone.”

“You should get back to studying,” Yunohama adds. “You’re not good at science.”

He pauses, grimacing at the statement. It’s true that he’s struggling with all the reading material in his science class. And no one really calls him at this hour, he talked to his parents just after dinner already. “But why do you have my phone?”

Yuno wags a finger at the first year admonishingly. “Because I don’t want you _distracted!_ Here, Ohira-san, you should hold onto it until we’re done with our homework,” he thrusts the phone at the older student before anyone can protest. The phone is locked again, so as long as Hinata doesn’t try calling, they won’t see who was trying to contact Goshiki. If they can escape back to their rooms before Goshiki looks at the messages, he won’t have the opportunity to complain until tomorrow. 

“...Okay?” Ohira says confusedly, accepting the phone. “Goshiki, you _did_ say that you wanted to work on your grade. I won’t look at your phone.”

“I know you won’t, I trust _you_,” Goshiki admits, frowning at Akakura suspiciously. But he sits back down, and the room returns to relatively silence. 

Then, a phone rings.

Akakura and Yunohama share a moment of panic, before they realize it’s a different ringtone, and not from Goshiki’s phone. _It’s not Hinata, thank goodness._

“Ah, that’s mine, sorry,” Semi says abruptly, patting down his pockets for his smartphone. He glances at the caller ID and looks perplexed as he puts the phone to his ear. “Why're you calling me, Hinata?”

“_Hinata?!_” Goshiki splutters. 

“_Shit_,” Yunohama and Akakura mutter in unison. 

Semi listens for a moment, and then his eyes flicker up to Yunohama and Akakura. They consider bolting from the room. Semi gives them a look that tells them in no uncertain terms that they are to stay put. “Yeah, a bunch of us are studying right now.”

“Why is Hinata calling _you?_” Goshiki demands, also giving Yunohama a look. “Did you hack my phone?!”

“It’s not _hacking_,” Yunohama points out.

“You should hang up,” Akakura recommends loudly, shuffling over so he’s between Goshiki and Semi. “What happened to _studying_, Semi-san? Ohira-san, he’s being a _disturbance_, isn’t he?”

Ohira looks lost. “_Well_—”

“Shush,” Semi pulls the phone from his ear, “I can’t hear her. Oi, Hinata, I’ll put you on speaker.”

“_NO!_” Yunohama flails.

_Beep. _

“_Oho, speakerphone? Hello everyone!_” Hinata’s voice is light and easy. “_Especially you, **Kai-kun~! Yuno-kun~!**_”

Several pairs of judgemental eyes land on Akakura and Yunohama. 

“Hinata!” Goshiki shouts back, his cheeks pink. “I’m sorry, they stole my phone again!”

_“Mm, yeah, Goshiki. They **did**,”_ she agrees flatly. _“Are you listening, Akakura? Yunohama?”_

“Yeah,” Yunohama speaks after a moment.

“We’re here,” Akakura reluctantly adds. 

_“Semi says you’re supposed to be studying. I don’t want to bother you all, I’m sorry for calling like this. But could you PLEASE STOP TEXTING ME THROUGH GOSHIKI’S PHONE?”_

The room startles at her sudden shout. The two offenders grow pale. 

_“IF YOU WANT TO TALK SO BADLY, ADD ME TO A GROUP CHAT, AKAKURA!”_ She snaps. _“AND YUNOHAMA!”_ He flinches. _“I—it’s—Go ask Rumi, not me, oh my god! Introduce yourself. What use is it pining over someone that doesn’t know you exist?!”_

Yunohama blushes deeply, hanging his head. He can’t even look at the phone. “Uh. Right. Um.”

Yamagata and Semi burst into laughter, pouncing on Yunohama. Goshiki reaches for the phone, and Semi passes it over with no protest. 

“_Hinata_,” he says in low tone, quickly taking the call off speakerphone. “I’m _so sorry_, I should’ve paid more attention… Oh, you’re a _starter_ now? Wait...” He drifts to the edge of the room for some semblance of privacy.

Yamagata pounds Yunohama on the back. “Going to _Hinata_ for love advice, hah? What about _us_, Yuno-kun?”

“Shut up,” Yuno shoves him, disgruntled and still blushing. “I wasn’t doing that. Who told her about Rumi anyway?”

“I did,” Semi admits shamelessly, rolling his eyes, “As if you weren’t gonna blab about it anyway. We _know_ you, Yuno.”

“Well,” he huffs, ducking his head, “It’s not like either of _you_ are any help.”

“I’m _in_ Utsu-san’s class,” Semi argues, elbowing him. “We’re not _Hinata-Goshiki_ close, but we’ve talked before. And didn’t Tendou support you?”

“Is it really _support_ if it’s from Tendou?” Yuno asks bluntly. Unfortunately, he has a point. Tendou isn’t in the room at the moment, but even if he was, he wouldn’t be able to dispute that. 

Tendou is the kind of guy that likes to watch others crash and burn. He’d bring popcorn.

“Also, did you just say _Hinata-Goshiki,_ like it’s a modifier?” Soekawa wonders.

“Huh?” Semi frowns. “What the hell is a modifier?”

“An adverb.”

“Uh… right…”

“Jin, You’re forgetting that Semi _sucks_ at grammar,” Yamagata pipes up, cackling. Semi smacks him. 

“Enough about me, I was just trying to help _Yuno_.”

“I think I like Hinata’s help more,” Yuno says miserably. “I bet _she’s_ confessed before, which is more than I can say for any of you _cowards_.” That earns him a smack from Jin, Eita, and Hayato. Yuno scowls. “You’re mad because I’m _right!_”

“Now you’re just _asking_ for it!” Yamagata howls, tackling him off the couch and pinning him into a headlock. 

“I—_stand by_ my—statement!” Yuno chokes out. 

“Do you really want _her_ advice? I don’t think Hinata’s ever confessed,” Semi points out thoughtfully. He scratches his head in consideration, and then shoves Yamagata and Yunohama farther from the couch so they don’t kick his notebooks. “She’s actually not that bold at all.”

“What happened to _studying?_” Ohira asks, hopelessly. “Boys, come on.”

“Otherwise Goshiki and Hinata would be dating,” Soekawa adds, ignoring Ohira. “Or, at least, _Hinata_ would be dating…” 

“I can _hEaR yOu!_” Goshiki shrieks at them, his voice breaking mid-sentence. “Shut_ up!_”

“Did Hinata hear your voice crack?” Yuno yells back. “Hinata, have you ever confessed successfully before?!”

Goshiki looks horrified, covering the receiver end of the phone. “_Don’t ask her that!_”

“Goshiki, give me my phone,” Semi gets up and stretches. “You can talk tomorrow.”

Ohira sighs. “We’re going to be scolded for all this noise...”

“Oh! Semi! Right, sorry!” Goshiki stammers, turning his mouth to the receiver again. “This is Semi’s phone, I should give it back—“

Semi doesn’t let him finish, plucking the phone out of his hand unceremoniously. “Oi, Hinata, Yuno’s gonna keep badgering you for love advice. Should I give him your number?”

Yuno yells from underneath Yamagata, who’s still sitting on him.

“Hm. Alright then… oh? Don’t complain about that to _me_, I'm a pinch server. Yeah. I’m hanging up now.” Semi ends the call and looks at Yunohama blankly. 

“Well?”

“She says you’re hopeless and to stop bothering her.”

“WHAT?!” Yuno wails, grabbing Yamagata’s bicep for comfort. “_Really?_”

Semi laughs. “Kidding. She says emails are better because she doesn’t have a good data plan for too much texting.” 

Yuno clutches at his heart. “Hinata’s the only kind-hearted person in this school! I’m blessed to know her!”

Goshiki looks tired. “When did you all get so chummy with Hinata?” He asks, though it’s more like a whine. 

“Why, are you jealous now?” Semi snorts, returning to the couch. “You can’t be possessive if you’re not dating.”

“_You especially!_” Goshiki points at the setter suspiciously, ignoring the jab about dating. “_Why_ do you have Hinata’s number? Since when? Were you asking her for love advice too?!”

Semi freezes, glaring at the first year. “I don’t need _advice_.”

Yuno jumps on the chance to razz Semi. “You’re not dating anyone, so _clearly_—“ Semi picks up a spiral notebook and hurls it at Yuno. “Ack! Violence doesn’t mean I'm wrong! You're trying to silence me!”

“Can we get back to studying?” Ohira interrupts again, finally getting to his feet. “It’s getting late.”

“I’m done here,” Semi throws up his hands. “Yuno and Kai ruined the peace.”

“Hey!” Akakura protests. “I was just asking her why she’s upset about being a starter!”

“It’s because she’s stuck as a defender,” Goshiki explains flatly, frowning at Akakura. “She wants to be a midfielder. And she was telling _me_ about it, _not you!_”

"She whined about that to me, too," Semi quips. Goshiki glares. "And Taichi."

Akakura sticks out his tongue. “Don’t be jealous, Goshiki.”

“I’m not _jealous!_ She’s angry at you for reading her messages!”

“Actually,” Yuno interrupts, “She told him to make a group chat.”

“She _angrily_ told him to make a group chat,” Goshiki corrects him, fuming. 

Yamagata makes a noise of surprise, whipping around to Soekawa. “_Angrily_. That’s an adverb, right?”

Soekawa throws him a thumbs up. “Ooh, nice one. You could learn a thing or two from Hayato, Eita-kun.” Yamagata pumps a fist. Semi kicks him in the ribs, and then suddenly the three third years are wrestling. Goshiki and Akakura continue to argue. Umeda slides down in his armchair, pretending he had nothing to do with starting this mess. 

Ohira looks at his unfinished workbook mournfully, and begins to pack up. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was supposed to be dramatic and all soccer feels but lmao that's too heavy so I added a bunch of chatter about hopeless (or not?) high school romances. Terushima, anyone? 
> 
> Natsu’s current concerns:
> 
>   * Ariyoshi has picked a fight with every first year except her, therefore she is Next
>   * Sameshima now thinks she's better as a defender
>   * Ikejiri sleeps so much?? How??
>   * Was that an indirect kiss with Shirabu at lunch?? 
>   * She keeps mixing up the 2nd years
>   * Yokoyama can juggle the ball for longer than her
>   * Iwabuchi used the cruyff turn on her four times 
>   * Aimi’s romance conspiracy theories are getting wilder


	15. tendou's superstars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> once this idea started i couldn't stop writing

On Saturday morning, Yui walks out of the girls’ dormitory down to the bus station at the edge of Shiratorizawa’s campus. It’s a nice day, a little warmer than it had been during her morning run, but the sun isn’t beating down on her either. She’s grateful for that, since the summer season has begun and it’s unbearably hot when she has to stand around the goal for ninety minutes in a long-sleeve keeper’s jersey. Worse, Yui is painfully pale, and gets sunburnt easily. 

Today is nice. She wouldn’t mind walking to that health store, but Tendou lives off-campus and he instructed her to meet at the bus stop. 

There’s a tall student with dark greenish hair already waiting by the sign. 

“Ushijima-kun,” she greets him once she’s close enough. “Good morning.”

He nods. “Good morning. You're Aone-san, right?”

She’s pleased that Tendou’s habit of calling her Yui-kun hasn’t rubbed off on him. Yet. There’s still time for Tendou to change that. Yui glances at what he’s wearing. “Yes. Do you have practice later?” He’s in jogging shorts and a windbreaker, but they’re not in school colors. 

“No,” he answers. 

Yui just nods. She isn’t so surprised that Ushijima still wears athletic clothes when he’s not training. And it’s not like Yui would judge. She owns plenty of dresses and skirts, but she’s wearing running shorts and a light jacket today, too. 

“Do you?” Ushijima asks out of the blue.

Yui looks back at him, but unsurprisingly, his face is flat and unreadable. “Do I have practice today? Yes, but not till sundown.”

He nods again, silent as the grave. Yui isn’t too worried about that. Tendou will probably speak more than the two of them combined. 

Her phone vibrates in her pocket. Tendou. 

Yui blinks at the unknown number added to the LINE message, and the rambling texts from Tendou to inform them he’s on the 10:05 bus. Ushijima is also looking at his phone now. She huffs. “I don’t think we need a group chat for this,” she says quietly. “We’re just going to a store.”

“Tendou has many group chats,” Ushijima replies solemnly. “Many are with the same people, but serve different purposes. I’m in a group for third year players, a group for the whole volleyball team, and also one for volleyball starters only. And a secondary group for the whole team, but it’s only used for pictures.”

Yui adds Ushijima’s number to her contacts so it appears as ‘**ushijima w**’ instead of a string of numbers on her phone. “That sounds like something Tendou would do.”

_**tendou s** has changed the group name to ‘**superstars + satori’**_

Yui frowns at her phone. It seems a bit self-deprecating of Tendou to call it that. He’s always quick to congratulate Yui on her games or call Ushijima a Miracle Boy, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t a great athlete too. 

A text from Ushijima pops up next.

**ushijima w:** i don’t like our group name

Yui nods, not looking at Ushijima as she edits the group chat to ‘**trip to wakazano street**’. It’s a long name for a chat group, but far more accurate. 

“That’s better,” Ushijima says aloud. “But I think he’ll keep changing it.”

“That’s alright. It’s only for today, anyway,” she shrugs. 

Ushijima gets this little furrow between his eyebrows. “Hm,” he mutters. 

Yui doesn’t know what to make of that. “What?” She asks.

The volleyball player looks at her for a long moment. “Tendou talks about you often,” he says at last. 

She nods, though she isn’t sure why he’s pointing it out. “He’s told me a lot about you as well,” Yui agrees. “I’ve never watched your team play, yet I know all of your names.”

“Hm,” Ushijima says again, still inscrutable. “I think he must really like you. And Tendou is my best friend. So he must want us to get along.”

“Yeah… oh, so that’s what you meant,” Yui realizes. “About the chat group. I guess we might keep seeing each other because of Tendou, so I suppose we’ll stay in touch. My contact info is there, you can save it from the group message.” 

That also means the group chat name will become a persistent conflict until they can compromise… Yui is no wordsmith, but anything is better than ‘superstars + satori’.

“Yes, I think so,” Ushijima says thoughtfully, looking at the screen of his phone. 

“You’ll have to back me up, then, when I change the group name,” Yui reminds him. Her phone buzzes as she says this, another alert from the messaging app. 

**tendou s:** LAME NAME LAME NAME

_**tendou s** has changed the group name to ‘**ten-ushi-one**’_

“That one isn’t too bad,” Ushijima says, cocking his head to the side. “It’s… hard to pronounce, though.”

_**aone y** has changed the group name to ‘**saturday health store**’_

**tendou s:** c+ for creativity, goalie girl

_**tendou s** has changed the group name to ‘**my blessed angels, too holy for this planet, don’t fly off too soon**’_

**ushijima w:** is that a haiku?

**tendou s:** yes!! 😇🤡😇

**aone y:** poetic way to say we’re dying

**tendou s:** WHAT OMG 😱 💔 😩

**tendou s:** crap crap ur not wrong 😅😅 whoopsie

**ushijima w:** a+ for effort

**tendou s:** thank you waka 🥺

_**ushijima w** has changed the group name to ‘**trip**’_

**tendou s:** ashfkwkgjflgjwifkth

“Oh, I’ve upset him,” Ushijima murmurs to himself. “I just didn’t want the death haiku as the chat name.”

“He’ll forgive you,” Yui assures him.

The bus approaches, ending the conversation prematurely. Yui can see Tendou in the window, waving at them energetically.

“_‘Saturday store’_?” is the first thing Tendou says as they board the bus, sounding unduly outraged. “Is that all I am to you, Yui-kun? And Wakatoshi-kun! Just ‘_trip_’?”

“It’s accurate,” Yui argues. Ushijima nods solemnly. “And also not a weird haiku about our inevitable deaths.”

"I didn't mean it like that!" Tendou groans dramatically, plopping back into his seat and sprawling over the chair. The bus is pretty empty, so Yui doesn’t tell him off for taking up too much space. All of them are on the taller side, and there’s enough room for each of them to take seats adjacent to one another and stretch their legs into the aisle as long as no one’s walking through. 

“Good morning, Tendou,” Ushijima says to the redhead’s prone form. 

Tendou huffs, but replies with a reasonable, “Good morning, Wakatoshi-kun.” He pulls himself upright, already drumming his fingers along the top of the seats. “You two look nice.”

“Thank you,” Ushijima says. 

Yui doesn’t really think mismatched workout clothes count as nice outfits, but she appreciates the compliment. “You look nice too, Tendou.”

“Thank youuu,” Tendou draws out the words with a huge grin, adjusting his collared shirt. Yui is only kind of lying. He has a lime green and black animal print button down shirt over a magenta and red tie-dye t-shirt, black skinny jeans, and orange socks with white sneakers. Admittedly, though, he dresses with absolute confidence. She can’t imagine Tendou wearing anything plain, or it wouldn’t be Tendou anymore.

Still. One day, Yui will coax him into wearing something flattering that actually matches...

“Aone-san,” Ushijima speaks up after a moment. His eyes are focused downward. “Your knee. Are you injured?”

Yui finds herself touching her leg unconsciously, both students taking a look at her knee now. “No, it’s just a precaution,” she explains quietly, stretching out her leg and tugging the flexible knee brace down. Beneath it is a short, straight line of scar tissue. “I had a minor ACL tear.”

She isn’t very self-conscious about how it looks. It’s a knee, it was never pretty to begin with. 

However, upon her moving the brace, Ushijima shifts forward and stares at her leg like he’s never seen one before. The bus drives over a bump in the road, and he puts a hand on her thigh to keep her leg steady, inspecting her knee. 

“Uh,” Yui blinks. “I know it’s not very pleasant to look at…” Very gently, she tries to pull her knee away.

“It isn’t unpleasant,” Ushijima disagrees, not moving. “It’s just a scar.”

She looks at Tendou for guidance, but he’s no help. He’s not even looking at the scar in particular, just... her legs. Yui tends to wear dark leggings with her school uniform, but her bare legs aren’t any more interesting than her surgery scar. Since when did Tendou ever pay attention to legs, anyway? If anything, Ushijima's legs were nicer than hers. 

When she finally catches Tendou's, he just raises an eyebrow. “Wakatoshi-kun, why don’t you give her some space?” He suggests, taking pity on her.

Yui gives him a grateful look. 

Tendou winks. “Look, but don’t touch the goods, y’know?”

_I hate you,_ Yui thinks.

“Oh,” Ushijima says quietly, releasing her. “I apologize.”

“It’s okay,” Yui says, trying to sound unaffected. She knows she’s failing. He sounds so polite, he probably has no idea what Yui or Tendou are thinking of. “Like you said. I-It’s just a scar now.” 

“My father had ACL surgery too,” He explains, continuing on as if Yui wasn’t red as a tomato. “The scar looks different from yours, but it also happened many years ago.”

“The recovery varies,” Yui agrees, not meeting Ushijima’s eyes but focusing on his words. Clearly his whole fascination with her leg was innocent, of course it was, it’s about the injury and his father’s similar experience. “For me, this wasn’t too serious. My leg healed quickly.”

“Yui-kun was on crutches last semester for a while,” Tendou comments lightly, leaning his chin on one fist and dissipating the heavy atmosphere with a pout. “She wouldn’t even let me carry her books, though, she’s that stubborn.”

“You just wanted an excuse to be late for all your classes,” Yui points out, sinking down a little. Now that she thinks of it, Tendou hadn’t only tried to carry her books; he’d offered to princess-carry her around school as well. But that’d been a joke. Right?

Yui pointedly ignores both of them, carefully sliding her knee brace back into place. She covers up her scar and covers up any errant thoughts about volleyball players she might have, too. She and Tendou have known each other for years now, Yui would have noticed if he wanted to be more than friends. And Ushijima was notorious for his love affair with volleyball, he’s not interested in dating in high school at all. She’s being ridiculous.

When Yui risks a glance at them again, Ushijima is giving Tendou a strange look. “...Oikawa-san also wears a knee brace, doesn’t he?”

The middle blocker flops into his seat, boneless. “First of all, no, I know what you’re thinking and Oikawa never tore his ACL. We would’ve heard about it by now. Second of all, Wakatoshi-kun, my miracle boy, you need to _let him go_.”

Yui stays quiet. It’s difficult to tell if this is about a volleyball player or a volleyball player that’s also Ushijima’s ex-boyfriend. She’s just happy the conversation has moved on from her legs.

“I don’t know what you mean by that,” Ushijima says frankly. “Oikawa is an excellent setter,” he explains to Yui, “And he’d climb to even greater heights if he’d come to Shiratorizawa to be on my team.”

“...I see,” Yui murmurs. She’s never met Oikawa before, so there isn't much to say.

“Only problem is he hates Wakatoshi-kun’s guts and will never set for him,” Tendou pipes up. “He’s _the one that got away_,” he says wistfully, wiping an imaginary tear from his eye.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” she tells Ushijima tentatively. “But isn’t it better to focus on what you do have rather than what you don’t?”

Ushijima considers this, looking directly at Tendou. He’s not a very expressive person, but Tendou beams in response, winking, and it brings a small, gentle smile to Ushijima’s face. “I suppose you’re right.”

Huh. People at school describe Ushijima as aloof and unapproachable, but Yui can see that he’s exactly the person Tendou had always described and admired: reserved, but very genuine. Tendou and Ushijima are a strange pair, practically opposites in personality, but it’s like they’re meant for each other. 

Tendou hangs his head out into the aisle, eyeing Yui now. “Now then, Yui-kun. When’s your next game? Home or away?”

“Next Wednesday,” Yui answers. “It’s a home game against Date Tech.”

From the way Tendou wiggles his eyebrows, he hasn’t forgotten what Yui’s told him about that particular high school. “Dateko? _That_ Dateko? Iron Wall school?” He asks meaningfully. 

“I think the ‘iron wall’ only applies to their volleyball team,” Ushijima points out, oblivious to the underlying question Tendou asks.

“That’s exactly what I’m talking about,” Tendou says slyly. “Wakatoshi-kun, you heard about their new starter, ne? A big ol’ middle blocker, almost 2 meters tall?”

“No,” Ushijima blinks at him. “That doesn’t matter. We can still beat them.”

Tendou waves his hand at Ushijima like he’s trying to shoo away the spiker’s intense aura. “Yes, yes, of course we will—but the blocker! That’s Yui-kun’s _baby brother!_”

Yui rolls her eyes. Her ‘baby brother’ outgrew her in elementary school. 

“I see,” Ushijima says, giving Yui a pensive look. “I didn’t know you had siblings.”

“It’s just me and Takanobu,” she confirms. “He’s a year younger than me. We’ve always been close.” 

“Is he coming to your game?” Tendou looks back at Yui eagerly. “I wanna meet him!”

Yui hesitates. Tendou, as much as Yui likes him, doesn’t always mean well. And she can’t tell if it’s a good idea or not to let him meet Taka. 

Her brother is shy on most days, and slow to warm up to new people. She’s already certain he’ll be too embarrassed to introduce himself to her teammates, so adding Tendou to the mix probably won’t help. And she’d hate to find out that he doesn’t get along with her school friends.

“I’m sure you have practice on Wednesday,” Yui tells him dismissively. Tendou has never shown any interest in watching a soccer match before, and if all he’s going to do is bother Takanobu, she doesn’t want either of them in the stands.

“But it’s right outside the gym!” Tendou protests, waving both hands around. “I can watch a little bit. I’ll be on my best behavior for baby Aone, too. Don’t rat me out, Wakatoshi-kun,” he says belatedly. Yui could have told him it was a bad idea to talk about skipping practice in front of his own captain. 

Ushijima does look a little offended, in fact. “Tendou, you can’t skip practice, not even for Aone-san. However, we only have mandatory skill training next Wednesday, so we finish earlier than usual.”

Tendou flings an arm around Ushijima’s shoulders. “Then it’s settled. We’ll both get to watch you play!”

Yui waits for Ushijima to correct him. Surely he’d stay longer in the gym for extra practice, everyone knows that the volleyball team practices run late every day. And since when did Ushijima watch soccer, anyway? But no, the two of them just look at Yui expectantly. 

Yui pulls her gaze away, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. She feels heat spread across her face, and convinces herself it’s from the sun streaming through the windows. “If it’s a good match, you’ll be watching me stand around doing nothing for ninety minutes,” she says stiffly. 

“Eh?? Yui-kun, _Yui-kun_, you’d make a _terrible_ saleswoman. ‘_If we’re lucky, it’ll be very boring_’, that’s what you’re saying!” Tendou accuses, his long legs bumping into both Ushijima and Yui, somehow, as he talks. 

“I never said that,” Yui disagrees, arms crossed. “I wouldn’t play if it were boring.” The bus begins to slow down as they approach their stop. Yui finds the floor more and more interesting to watch. 

“Then why the sour face? It’s like you don’t want us to go,” Tendou points out, getting to his feet first and looming over her. Ushijima stands as well, but stays back from the staring match Tendou has initiated.

Yui pushes herself out of her seat, rising to meet his height. To her dismay, Yui realizes that she’s a bit shorter than Tendou. When they first started at Shiratorizawa, Yui had definitely been taller than him.

“You’ve never asked to watch my games before,” Yui says at last, pulling away from him. “What’s changed, Tendou? If it’s because Taka is going, that’s a poor reason.” She exits the bus after Ushijima. 

Ushijima is also taller than her. Somehow, she hadn’t noticed it until now. That makes her the shortest of all three of them. She can’t remember the last time that’s happened. Next time, Yui thinks she’ll wear different casual clothes, something less sporty that matches with her treasured, singular pair of brown heeled boots. Tendou would get a kick out of it, she’s certain. 

Well, that presumes there’s another trip… 

“Alright, tell it to me straight,” Tendou declares, spinning on his heel to face Yui. His red eyes are wide and daring. “If you don’t want me at your game, I won’t go.”

Yui startles at his frankness. Maybe she’s overthinking this whole thing, which isn’t like her. “Don’t ever say that, Tendou. Of course I want you there,” she says, directly as possible. 

Tendou blinks at her owlishly. Yui doesn’t want any confusion between them. It took so long to become friends with Tendou in the first place, she wouldn’t spoil it through a simple misunderstanding. 

“I just worry for Taka sometimes,” Yui admits. Lately, her brother has been very competitive in volleyball, in order to become a starter on his team. “It’s nice that you want to meet him, but it’s hard to explain.”

Tendou gives her a toothy grin, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I get it, I get it. No scaring baby Aone. You have my word, Yui. I’ll be there on Wednesday for you and you _alone_.”

Yui wishes her game would come sooner. She also, paradoxically, wants to disappear altogether.

“I’ll go too,” Ushijima comments, looking between them. “But it’s also for that first year, um.” He frowns, trying to recall her name. “The orange one. Goshiki’s… Natsu. She talks about soccer a lot.”

“Natsu would love it,” Yui confirms, intrigued by the way Ushijima phrased it. _Goshiki’s Natsu_, huh? It’s a good thing Yamane didn’t hear that one. “Hinata is one of our best new players. Rumi wants her on the field, but they disagree on what position she should play.” 

“I heard her whining about that to Taichi,” Tendou pipes up. He picks a direction and the two of them follow the redhead, assuming he knows where the store is. “She’s on defense, right?”

“A wingback,” Yui murmurs. “Hinata doesn’t realize how valuable she is. I think she could take up almost any position and excel at it. It’s unusual.”

"Not _you_, though, huh Yui-kun?" Tendou points out, grinning. "No one can replace you."

"Of course not, I'm the keeper." Her position was unique from the rest of the team. Hirao Chika, the first year goalie, was good, but nowhere near ready to take Yui's place. "The game is over without me." Tendou hums in agreement. 

She scans the street, spotting a large green sign that looks like the store Tendou had described. “Tendou, is that the place?”

“Ah! Yes it is~” Tendou sings, swaying on the spot. “You can shop for ultra-healthy protein powders to your heart’s content!”

He starts humming a tune, trying out verses to make a song about health food. Yui has never minded his singing, and when he actually completes a song it’s kind of nice. More importantly, though, Tendou _loves_ to sing. Yui can’t bring herself to shush him. 

Ushijima is unbothered as well; his attention has strayed to the small playground they’re about to pass, teeming with preschoolers and fretting mothers. They’re so small; Yui can hardly remember being so little. Ushijima looks fascinated. Maybe he’s thinking like Yui and wondering how humans can function with such tiny hands and feet.

There’s a small gate meant to fence in the kids, but with a sharp squeal from an especially vocal boy, Yui watches a rubber ball sail out of the play area and into the street.

Without missing a beat, she takes two quick steps forward—and two small children smack into her, blocked by her long legs. 

Satori pauses with Wakatoshi. Yui simply stands there, peering down at the boy and girl. “Go back,” she says simply, pointing to the play area. He can’t help but watch Yui tower over the kids like a marble statue, tall and imposing. If he were that young, staring up at Yui, he’d be convinced she was some sort of Greek goddess. Oh, who’s he kidding? He already thinks that, and they’re the same age.

Belatedly, a mother rushes over, calling for the kids. The girl startles, and scurries back onto the playground without protest. The taller boy looks shaken, but suddenly chooses to hold his ground. 

“I need to get my ball!” He stamps his foot, scowling up at Yui.

Yui nods solemnly. “I’ll get it for you, it’s in the street.”

“No!” the boy shouts, trying to move around her. “it’s MY ball. Why do YOU get it, old lady?!”

Satori swiftly turns his head away and into Wakatoshi’s shoulder to cackle. _Old lady. _Oh, he loves this. 

“Shinji!” The boy’s mother snaps. “Don’t be rude! Get back here!”

Yui is unfazed, luckily. Poor Wakatoshi looks more out of depth than ever. There’s a few kids pointing at them and discussing their heights now that they’ve noticed the high schoolers. Satori pulls a funny face, and several of the little girls shriek at being caught. He gives Wakatoshi bunny ears, and a few of the boys begin to laugh. 

Yui is still having a stare-down with a five year old. Satori itches for his phone, wanting to livestream this or something, it’s so funny. “I’m allowed to cross the street because I’m an adult. I have my friends here to watch out for me, too. Stay here, please.”

Shinji’s mother wrangles him back onto the sidewalk, and Yui goes into the street to retrieve the ball. She looks both ways exaggeratedly, for the boy’s benefit, and upon finding the ball, kicks it up into her hands with a flick of her foot. There’s an audible gasp from little Shinji. 

“Show off,” Satori teases once she returns. Yui gives him a confused look, but he doesn’t have to explain.

“_How’d you do that?_” the little boy demands, snatching the ball from Yui. He immediately puts it on the ground and tries to flick it up like she did, only to send it flying into the swing set. “How’d you do that trick with the ball, _nee-san?_” He asks again. “I wanna do _that!_”

“Now she’s _nee-san_,” Satori mutters to Wakatoshi with a shake of his head. “Kids these days!”

“I’m Aone Yui,” she corrects the boy. “I learned a lot of tricks by playing soccer,” Yui tells him softly, rising to her full height and returning to Satori’s side. The look on her face is gentle, though she doesn’t smile. Shinji mouths the word ‘_soccer_’ a few times, like his whole life’s just been altered. Satori can see a future full of grass stains and muddy shoes for that kid and his poor mother.

“Ignore Yui-kun. You’ll be cooler if you play volleyball,” Satori can’t help but add, and then Yui makes an affronted noise and begins to push him away from the playground. “It’s _way_ more fun.”

Little Shinji gets in one more dig, though, when he scowls at Satori. “No way! Volleyball is for GIRLS!”

Wakatoshi abruptly stops walking, turning around to contest the boy. “It is not.”

“Is _too!_” The boy squeaks. 

“Is _not_.”

Yui snorts, ducking her head as she moves Wakatoshi away too, pushing firmly on his back. There’s a fresh splash of pink across her face now, a pretty color to match with her silvery-blond hair and peachy skin. “He doesn’t know any better, Ushijima-kun.”

“That’s contradictory, _she_ plays soccer and _we_ play volleyball,” Wakatoshi intones, deadly serious. Satori pats him on the back in consolation, muttering a ‘don’t mind’ to the ace. 

Wakatoshi reluctantly turns away from the playground, letting Yui lead them down the street. “You’re very good with kids, Aone-san.”

Yui takes a deep breath, letting go of them both and running her fingers through the pale strands of hair around her face. “They remind me of my teammates. We have a new rule about collecting balls, because yesterday, Ariyoshi chased after a stray ball into the woods and came back with scratches all over her arms and legs. She’d gone through a thorny raspberry bush to get it. And I know it was a raspberry bush, because she was upset it’s too early in the berry season and they weren’t _ripe enough to eat._”

Satori doesn’t try to stifle his laughter this time. “Yui-kun, you have it tough this year, don’t you?”

“I’m co-parenting twenty-two children with Rumi Utsugi,” Yui remarks, a smile gracing her face. “Being in charge is the hardest thing I’ve ever done.”

Wakatoshi gives Yui a long look, a moment of solidarity passing between them, and then they both glance at Satori with mirrored expressions of amusement.

“Shut _up_,” Satori says instantly, his jaw dropping. “I’m not a child.”

“We didn’t say anything,” Wakatoshi murmurs, eyebrows raised in humor. In fact, both of them are laughing at him with their eyes. Satori can tell. 

He doesn’t mind. They’re both so cute, with Yui biting her lip not to grin and Wakatoshi exhaling in a little huff of Ushiwaka-brand laughter. And they’re both so cool, even if they don’t see it. Superstars of their discipline. Satori is just glad he’s along for the ride, basking in their light for as long as he can. 

“Tendou,” Yui says suddenly, her steel grey eyes settled on him. 

“Hm?”

She’s holding the door open. Wakatoshi is already two steps inside the store, looking back at him calmly. Satori grins.

“How chivalrous, Yui-kun,” he croons to her as he follows Wakatoshi inside. Yui rolls her eyes, trailing behind him. 

* * *

They don’t actually spend much time in the store. Wakatoshi browses a few aisles and picks out a brand of protein bars he’s familiar with, but with a different flavor he’s never tried. The clerk tells him it’s a good flavor, and the ingredient list looks fine to him. Tendou flits from aisle to aisle, keeping up a running dialogue on everything from shoe insoles to banana-flavored gel packs. Aone buys vitamin supplements and some kind of granola that Utsugi asked her for, and spends the rest of her time admiring the leafy green spider plants that cover almost the entire storefront window. 

“Why are you taking a picture?” Wakatoshi asks her, after finally coming to a decision on the protein bars and purchasing a pack. Tendou is still browsing the aisles. She has her phone held out in front of the spider plants. Granted, they’re very healthy houseplants, hanging from the ceiling and stretching beyond their pots with several smaller plantlets, but not interesting enough to warrant a photo in Wakatoshi’s opinion.

She shrugs. “I was going to ask Ikejiri what kind of plants those are,” Aone replies quietly. The way she talks is soft and muted, very unlike anyone Wakatoshi knows. “They look nice.”

“They’re spider plants,” Wakatoshi tells her; he’s sure he recognizes this species, with spindly green leaves and bright yellow stripes. “They’re easy to grow. You could just take one of the babies.”

Aone looks confused. “The… babies?”

“The plantlets, the spiderettes,” he clarifies, pointing to the tiny bundles of spindly leaves sticking out of the pots. Wakatoshi isn’t an expert on plants, but he has a few in his dorm, and in the process of finding good indoor plants, he’d read about this common type of houseplant. “You just cut it from the main plant.”

“They’re… called _spiderettes?_” Yui asks. Her eyes are round and shiny all of a sudden, like 100-yen coins. 

Wakatoshi nods, a little uncertain. She doesn't really look happy, and he’s been trying his best to not mess up this trip for Tendou... 

Aone looks away from him, pressing a hand over her mouth. “That’s _really cute_,” she confesses softly. “I wonder where I can get one?”

“You could just take this one,” Wakatoshi suggests, privately relieved she’s not upset or anything. He always has trouble reading the room with new people, and Aone Yui is no exception. But this is something he’s familiar with; horticulture is a low-effort hobby, all things considered. “Just clip it off,” he explains, “You just need a pot with soil...”

“What do you mean?” Aone interrupts, eyebrows raised. “I can’t just _take_ it, Ushijima-kun. That would be stealing.”

“What’s this about stealing?” Tendou pops up from behind Wakatoshi, throwing an arm over his shoulders and pressing himself against his side. “Is Wakatoshi-kun telling you to commit crimes? You know I will, Waka.”

“No. It’s not stealing,” Wakatoshi reiterates, glancing at Aone. “I mean that you could just take the _baby_. No one would stop you.” 

“Hah?!” Tendou hoots. 

Aone looks at him for a moment, her eyes wide again. “Oh, _Ushijima_… ” she says in a hushed, warm tone. Wakatoshi isn’t sure why she’s looking at him, or talking like that. “That’s, um…”

“We’re stealing a _baby?_” Tendou exclaims, leaping between them excitedly. “Okay! I’m only a month away from getting my license, I can be the getaway driver.”

Oh. He said ‘baby’ instead of ‘spiderette’. Now Wakatoshi feels a little silly for liking the way Yui said his name.

“Th-that’s not… I mean… _Tendou_, you agreed _way too quickly_.” Aone puts a hand over her mouth again, her shoulders shaking with laughter. Her expression is still warm, though, when she looks at the two of them. 

The guess blocker beams, leaning into her space and giving her silver hair a light tug. “Anytime, Yui, anytime.”

“We’re talking about the spider plant,” Wakatoshi explains, eyeing Tendou curiously. “Would you really steal a human baby?” He wonders. 

“Only if you and Yui were asking,” Tendou laughs, but Wakatoshi gets the impression he’s speaking honestly. “I'd trust your judgement if you were both really determined about it!”

Well, Wakatoshi supposes that makes sense. He would not steal a baby unless the situation was truly dire. Not that Wakatoshi thinks he could be of any help to a baby. Yui, on the other hand, could probably save a baby. She seems very trustworthy, and they already saw how good she was with little kids. 

Wakatoshi decides he would also probably help Yui steal a baby if she asked, since Satori was so willing.

“I’m not stealing any babies _or_ plants,” Aone huffs, flicking her braid over her shoulder. “Besides, I don’t have the supplies for it.”

“Of course you don’t,” Tendou nods, wiggling his eyebrows. He has a very expressive face, Wakatoshi has always liked that about Tendou.“My mom says that babies need a ton of stuff, they’re very expensive! Though in hindsight, I think she was just threatening me not to make her a grandmother too soon.”

Wakatoshi can relate. His mother gave him an embarrassingly thorough lecture on adult relationships when he entered junior high… 

“I meant the _plant_, Tendou.” Aone says, cheeks glowing pink. “I don’t have a pot or any soil for it.”

“Is that the only reason you won’t take it?” Wakatoshi asks. “You can ask the owner for permission, of course, but if no one takes the spiderettes off, they’ll just die.”

“They’ll _die?_” Aone echoes, troubled. Maybe he should use different words. Wakatoshi gets the feeling Aone takes the well-being of plants very seriously.

“So this _is_ a baby-saving mission after all!” Tendou declares with a flourish, rubbing his hands together like a cartoon villain. “No worries, Yui! I have extra potting soil and stuff at home, Mama Tendou loves her gardening. Let’s save the _spider babies!_”

“Spiderettes,” Wakatoshi corrects him. He isn’t surprised when Tendou just flaps his hand, a familiar nonverbal response from the redhead. 

“I can’t take them all, there must be at least ten on each pot,” Aone says, casting a worried look towards the plants. “And I’m not very good with plants, what if they just die anyway?”

“They’re easy to care for,” Wakatoshi promises. “And if there’s a problem, just ask for help.” He eyes Tendou suspiciously. “Ask _me_ for help, not Tendou.... He killed my mammillaria cactus last summer.”

The _mammillaria hahniana_ cactus, also called the old lady cactus, was one of the easiest plants to look after. They were a hardy species after all, meant to survive in extreme weather. It still stunned Wakatoshi that Satori could be careless enough to kill it, especially when he had also successfully kept two snake plants alive last year while Wakatoshi was in the capital for a youth training camp.

“I was framed,” Tendou chirps, sending Wakatoshi an apologetic look. “You should see Wakatoshi and Reon’s dorm. It’s a jungle. Reon staged an accident for Old Lady Nakada.”

“Reon wouldn’t do that,” Wakatoshi insists automatically. This is an old argument between them. Ohira wouldn’t plan something so elaborate. He liked Wakatoshi's plants, and if there was a problem he would've spoken up.

“That cactus punctured a volleyball and he never got over it,” Tendou crows. “I can't believe you still blame me instead of the real culprit. What’s even my motive? I like your plants, I _named_ that cactus!” 

Before Wakatoshi can refute this, Tendou continues. “But anyway! _Ojisan!_” He spins on his heel and waves at the elderly man at the front desk. “Your bug plants have little baby plants! Can we take some off your hands, sir?”

“Hah? Y’mean those damn spider plants?” The owner squints at them. “Take all you want, kid, those things grow like crazy. Just quit loitering in my shop!”

"Alright!" Tendou whoops. 

Aone and Wakatoshi thank the shop owner profusely, and take three clippings. The elderly man is cranky about it at first, until Aone walks over to speak with him. She naturally speaks in a soft, polite tone, and the owner seems much more malleable after hearing her compared to Tendou. She returns with three plastic cups filled with water to hold each of the spiderettes, looking pleased.

They get lucky with the timing; within minutes of walking out of the health store, there’s a bus scheduled to arrive on the street, and the three of them climb aboard, each with a plant clipping in hand. 

“You’ve got time to come over to my house, right Yui-kun?” Tendou asks, looking at her hopefully. “If you don’t I’ll just bring ‘em in on Monday.”

“You don’t have to do that, I can stop by,” Aone says quietly. “Are you coming, Ushijima-kun?”

And herein lies the dilemma for Wakatoshi. 

Tendou is undoubtedly in love with this girl. Wakatoshi doesn’t know much about love, but all the signs point to it. He’s never heard Tendou talk about anyone as much as he talks about Aone Yui. They’ve been friends for ages, but rarely got the time to hang out outside of school because Tendou lived off-campus while Aone stayed in the dorms. Tendou remembers things about Aone, like her class schedule and her favorite drinks, which he hardly ever does. The only time Satori has ever said something negative about Aone was when she’d been doing poorly in Japanese Lit after losing in Nationals. 

Tendou Satori adores Aone Yui. It’s basically a fact.

So this is the perfect time for him to decline an invitation so that his _best and closest friend_ has some time alone with Aone. She’s a good person, Tendou would be very happy with her. He wants Tendou to be happy.

But the last thing Wakatoshi wants to do is leave. 

After meeting Aone Yui himself… he’s having fun on this trip. He likes hanging out with them. Yui and Satori and Wakatoshi. It was different from spending time with his teammates, but still familiar and relaxed. Tendou is having a grand time, Aone is very sweet, and Wakatoshi doesn’t want to go back to his dorm just yet. He doesn’t even have homework or practice today, because he jogged this morning. 

And Tendou never explicitly _said_ he wanted to hang out with Aone alone. This was supposed to be a trip to make sure his closest friends could get along with each other. So Wakatoshi wouldn’t be doing anything wrong by staying… 

“Of course he’s coming,” Satori answers first, elbowing the taller boy. “He’ll have to help carry your new babies back to the dorms.”

“_Spiderettes_,” Ushijima and Aone correct him simultaneously. 

Satori responds with a wide grin. “Right, right…” _Oh, god, they’re so cute._ Satori has to look away from the two of them, or he might blurt out something embarrassing. He pushes away those thoughts for now, instead defaulting to his favorite subject—manga. 

The remainder of the drive is filled up by Tendou recounting the major plot points from the mangas he’s reading in Shounen Jump. Aone sits back with her head resting on one arm, content to watch as he acts out comic panels and gestures wildly from his seat. Ushijima watches as well, but looks away frequently to examine the leafy plantlets cradled in his hands. It’s mostly Tendou carrying the conversation, but all three of them are content nonetheless.

It's everything he'd hoped for. 

_Operation Superstars + Satori is a success. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God I love UshiTen so much right now?? I might just write a spin-off solely to explain the tragic life and death of Farmer Ushijima's cactus. Tendou named it Old Lady Nakada because Nakada Kumi is the name of the current head coach for the Japanese national women's volleyball team, and it's an 'old lady' cactus. 
> 
> Also, is it wrong to stan my own OC? Because Aone Yui is precious. I almost wrote in a scene where Tendou tries to name her spider plants for the three of them, but she refuses to let him do it because she's worried about killing plant-Tendou or plant-Ushijima.


	16. shiratorizawa vs dateko, I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is part one, because it got hella long

“It’s this week, right?”

“There’s a game _every_ week, Shouyou, but yes.”

“Wednesday at 4pm?”

“_Yes_, I told you yesterday—do you remember what field?”

Shouyou stalls in the doorway, his shoes halfway tied. “I’m sure I’ll find it.” How hard could it be to find a group of girls in purple jerseys? Natsu was super easy to spot in a crowd, not many people had hair like a Hinata.

Natsu tosses his jacket at his head. “It’s field six, okay? By the horse stables—“

“There’s horses?! Wait, no, I knew that. Are they nice horses? Can I pet them?”

“Maybe another time,” Natsu chuckles. “I’ll ask Ideguchi about it.”

“Who’s that?”

“He plays soccer.”

“_Shocking_.”

“Shut _up_. He also takes care of the horses.”

Shouyou yanks on his jacket, following his sister through the front door. They’re both taking bicycles to school today, and for once, the stars (and their schedules) have aligned: he doesn’t have mandatory practice on Wednesday afternoon, and he can finally watch a Shiratorizawa soccer game! 

“Uwaahhh! I’m so excited for you, Nacchan,” Shouyou snags her around the neck to muss up her hair. “You’re gonna do great!”

“Even as a wing-back?” Natsu huffs, prying herself out of his arms. She’s a bit crabby in the morning. 

“Don’t talk like that!” Shouyou admonishes her. “You’re a starter! Show ‘em you deserve to be on the field!”

Natsu smiles, pulling out her bike. “I’ll do my…” she yawns, “my… best.”

Shouyou snickers when she steers her bike into a bush. “Are you sure you’re awake enough for this? What if you fall asleep mid-ride?”

“Then I die….” She croaks, her voice still a little raspy from sleep. “Better than being swindled by the rising bus fare.”

He coughs. “...Nacchan, could ya lighten up a little?” 

Natsu waves off his concern with a snort, trying to fix the bobby pins in her hair. Shouyou watches for a moment, and swears the little metal thing just _vanishes_ into thin air. And Natsu’s hair looks exactly the same, so he has no idea what she’s accomplished by using those clip things. “Only if they lighten up on the cost of public transit.”

“Don’t die, Nacchan,” Shouyou shakes his head, climbing on his bike. It’s still weird to him, not seeing her in the halls or at lunch at Karasuno, so it’s nice that they can spend the morning together. “What would I do without you?”

“Fail all your English tests,” Natsu quips back, smirking.

He sticks out his tongue, but doesn’t deny it. Natsu’s tutoring is a blessing, though it comes at the cost of her relentless teasing. “Fair enough. See ya, sis!”

Natsu calls back her farewell, and Shouyou takes off for Karasuno, buzzing with excitement. Two days, and then he gets to watch Natsu play on the best soccer team in the prefecture! Ahhh he can’t wait!

* * *

Apparently Shouyou is a little more energetic than usual, because when volleyball practice rolls around, Kageyama scowls at him twice as much and Tsukishima is extra annoyed with the ginger decoy. 

“Do you know how to sit still?” Tsukishima demands, glaring down at him. “Or are you like a shark, and you’ll die if you stop moving?”

Shouyou scowls. “I’ve heard that one before. I think _you’re_ the shark, Tsukki, because you’re _cold-blooded!_” Haha! It took him a while to come up with that comeback after Natsu used that joke on him, but Shouyou’s glad he remembered that weird shark fact. 

The blonde first year sneers, even more ticked off now. 

“Now, now,” Sugawara intervenes, patting Tsukishima on the back. “What’s got you so excited, Hinata? I know we’ve got that training camp coming up, but it isn’t for another few weeks.”

“It’s about Nacchan!” Shouyou explains, or rather, he shouts. Both Kageyama and Tsukishima groan in irritation, but suddenly they’re both paying attention to the ginger menace. Hinata’s ginger twin was still an enigma to Karasuno, but they remembered her fondly for cheering them on at Aoba Johsai. 

“I’m gonna watch her game on Wednesday, she’s on the starting roster and it’s a home game and they’re playing Date Tech and—“

“Shouyou, you have a sister?” Nishinoya interrupts, eyes wide. “I had no idea! What year is she? I’ve never seen her!”

“She’s my twin!” Shouyou exclaims, beaming. “Hinata Natsu!”

“What?? You have a TWIN?” Nishinoya hollers. He spins around to Tanaka. “Ryuu, did you know?!”

(Quietly, off to the side, Asahi asks Daichi for context. Hinata Natsu is apparently the cute girl version of their ginger kouhai.)

“Ahh! You didn’t know!” Tanaka hollers back, grabbing Noya by the shoulders. “_Nacchan!_ She’s adorable! She went to our practice match! She defended our honor as men against that Oikawa guy!”

“I don’t think she was defending our honor, exactly,” Shouyou raises an eyebrow at the hero-worship in Tanaka’s eyes.

“WHAT?!” Noya demands. “I need DETAILS! Why have I never seen this mysterious Nacchan?!”

“She goes to _Shiratorizawa Academy_,” Kageyama snaps, squeezing a volleyball so tightly between his hands, Shouyou fears he’ll pop it. 

“KAGEYAMA! Why do you look so upset about that?!” Tanaka points an accusatory finger at him. “Are you jealous or something?”

“I—“ Kageyama’s face looks more constipated than usual. “It’s not _that_, it’s—”

He mutters something under his breath, but Shouyou can’t make it out. “What was that?” 

“I said,” Kageyama grits his teeth, “I applied to that school, but I didn’t pass their entrance exam. Shiratorizawa is a…. _really_ prestigious school.”

Tsukishima bursts into laughter. Kageyama looks up with murder in his eyes.

“Oi! Don’t you laugh at him!” Tanaka pounces on the tall blocker. “You’re here too, you’re no better—“

“I’m not at Karasuno because I failed any exams, though,” Tsukishima retorts, fumbling to keep his glasses on. “This was just the closest school.”

“I _wanted_ to go to this school, you ass,” Kageyama growls. 

“Don’t mind, Kageyama,” Shouyou casts the sour setter a sympathetic look. Honestly, he’s glad Kageyama failed the exam because it allowed them to meet and figure out this awesome quick, but saying that out loud would probably sound selfish. “I didn’t pass either,” Shouyou says instead. “Nacchan is super studious, our mom wouldn’t let her go to the Academy unless she kept up her grades, so she was like—in _ultra-study-mode_ for the whole summer for that test.”

Kageyama’s eyebrows creep up towards his hairline. “You said she plays soccer. She’s not there on a sports scholarship?”

“Oh no, she is,” Shouyou explains, “But she still had to pass the exams for class placement and stuff. And the sports one only covers club fees, she took the test to apply for an academic scholarship too.” Not that it does much besides cover the cost of textbooks, but it was a bonus that made it easier to convince their parents to let Natsu go to such a prestigious school.

Kageyama stares, uncomprehendingly. “Tell me you’re joking, _boke_.”

“Don’t call me a _boke!_” Shouyou scowls. “Whaddya mean, huh?!”

The setter glares at him harder. “Are you even _related?_”

“We’re _twins!_” Shouyou exclaims, flabbergasted that he has to explain it again. “You met her, of course we’re related!”

“Sure doesn’t seem like it,” Tsukishima mutters, having escaped Tanaka’s wrestling for the moment. “She must’ve absorbed all the intelligence while you were in the womb.”

Shouyou turns to yell at him too, but Yamaguchi speaks first. “Hinata, is your sister some kind of genius?” Yamaguchi wonders. “Getting into a school like that is really impressive. For academics _and_ sports. That’s crazy.”

It didn’t really seem crazy to Shouyou. He and Natsu were always kind of competing in some way or another, and they were each more successful in some ways more than their twin. “I know she’s way better at studying than me,” Shouyou says reluctantly. “Don’t call her a genius, she’s already got a huge ego…”

“Jealous, much?” Tsukishima smirks. 

“No way,” Shouyou shakes his head. “Nacchan works really hard!” 

“Are you saying you _don’t_ work hard?” Kageyama points out.

Shouyou cringes. “Well, not in _math class_ I don’t. God, it’s so _boring_. And Karasuno doesn’t do big scholarships.” He would never understand math as easily as Natsu anyway. She wasn’t in any super-advanced classes, but she had learned how to manage her time like a pro in middle school. 

“...The uniforms aren’t too bad at Shiratorizawa,” Noya ruminates, rubbing his chin. Tanaka hums in agreement.

Shouyou blinks. 

“_Noya-san_,” he says lowly, turning to the libero. The atmosphere shifts without warning, sending a chill down each person’s spine. “You… mean the girls’ uniforms? You mean the uniform my innocent baby sister wears? Is _that_ the uniform you’re talking about, Nishinoya?”

Nishinoya Yu has never looked more frightened in his life. Shouyou rarely gets serious about anything other than winning in volleyball, but the look on his face right now silences the whole team. 

(Sitting next to Takeda, the club advisor, is Ukai Keishin. He has not been paying attention to what the teenagers have been talking about in the slightest. “What the hell just happened?” He mutters under his breath to the teacher.)

Tanaka laughs nervously. “I swear, Hinata, we would _never_ disrespect your sister,” he wheezes.

“Y-Yeah!” Noya agrees loudly, inching towards Asahi for protection. (Though it should be noted that Asahi will give no such shelter, if it came to that). “She sounds amazing a-and smart and like Kiyoko and _oh my god I’m sorry_ please stop giving me that look Shouyou?”

Like a switch, the frigid aura vanishes. “I’m glad to hear that!” Shouyou chirps, grinning again, sunshine personified once more. 

“So, uh,” Sugawara interrupts, fiddling with a water bottle to get rid of his nerves. “What’s the Shiratorizawa campus like? It’s a big school, I hear.”

“Oh, you know, I didn’t really get to see much of it!” Shouyou confesses, scratching his head. “I don’t remember the layout. But it’s _really_ big! There’s a ton of fields, they have horses and _tennis courts!_ Oh! And the volleyball team has two gyms. Two!! I can’t wait to see it myself!” 

“That’s pretty cool,” Yamaguchi murmurs. “My mom works near that school, they gather a lot of crowds for their athletic clubs.”

“You know what you should do, Hinata? You should sneak into the gym, get some insider knowledge of the volleyball team,” Tanaka suggests teasingly. “Might as well take advantage while you’re there.”

“Uwah! Good thinking!!” Noya shouts, tugging on Tanaka’s shirt. “Shouyou, take us with you!”

Shouyou’s eyes widen. “Eh? To spy on their volleyball team?!” He’s actually never thought of doing that. He’s been so invested in rejecting all discussions of Natsu’s volleyball friends, he never considered the possibility of gaining knowledge from them. “Uh… I don’t know how Natsu would feel about that…”

“These _idiots_…” Tsukishima mutters. 

“Nope. I’m shutting this down right now,” Daich interrupts, stepping between Shouyou and the others with a dangerous look on his face. “Time to start warming up. _No spying_.”

“Yes sir!” The underclassmen chorus.

Practice starts up, and Daichi doesn’t allow idle chatter among the players anymore. It’s not until the very end of the day, while the volleyball team is cooling down with more stretches, that the subject is revisited. 

“I was only _joking_,” Tanaka insists, sending Shouyou a furtive look. “If I went, I’d go cheer on your sis too. It’s only fair, after all. It was really nice to have a fan at our first practice match, seriously!”

“I’d cheer her on too!” Noya pipes up. “I swear! It’d be cool to see the campus, but I like soccer! It’s not as fun as volleyball, but still!”

Shouyou perks up. “Hmm… if you come to watch the game, I think that’d be fine. She’d like that a lot, actually.” Their mother works long hours, and their father travels for his job, so it’s really up to Shouyou and Natsu to cheer each other on. “And—sorry Karasuno soccer club, but Natsu’s team is basically the _best_ in Miyagi, so it’s gonna be a good game!”

“You know, maybe we _should_ go,” Tanaka grins, switching positions to stretch his other leg. “Whaddya say, Noya?”

“Let’s do it! I wanna meet Nacchan!”

Yamaguchi watches them curiously. “How will you get there?” he asks innocently.

“Eh?” Tanaka and Nishinoya pause. 

“Shiratorizawa is by the capital, on the other side of the mountain,” the first year continues. 

“EH?!” Tanaka’s eyes bulge. “Hinata, how are you getting to Shiratorizawa?!”

He looks at the second years owlishly. “I’ll bike there.”

Ukai spits out his drink. “You’ll _what?!_”

Shouyou looks between the players’ faces, which are all in various states of shock and awe. He doesn’t get it. “How else would I get there?!” He exclaims. 

“A bus,” Tsukishima deadpans, “Like a normal person.”

Shouyou shakes his head. “I can’t leave my bike at school. And it’s quicker to bike from here to the Academy, if I bike home and take a bus from my house, I’ll miss most of the game.”

“Hinata… h-how far away do you live?” Asahi asks, concerned. 

“Eh… I think it takes like, thirty minutes to get home?” Shouyou guesses. 

Yamaguchi’s jaw drops. “_Hinata_…”

“Don’t do it,” Tsukishima hisses all of a sudden. “Shut up Yamaguchi.”

Yamaguchi, for once, ignores his best friend as his caring nature wins out. “...Do you want a ride, Hinata? I… kind of wanted to go too, if that's ok. And my mom could probably drive us all there and back, she’ll be home on Wednesday…”

Shouyou’s mouth falls open in surprise. He leaps to his feet. “YAMAGUCHI! Really?! You’d do that?!”

“I-I mean, yeah,” Yamaguchi stutters, rubbing his cheek. “It sounds interesting…”

“UWAHHH! YAMAGUCHIIIIII!” Nishinoya hollers, pouncing on the freckled first year. Tanaka echoes this sentiment with a hoot.

“Why would to volunteer for torture?” Tsukishima asks mournfully. “I thought you were better than this.”

“_Gomen_, Tsukki.”

* * *

“_Natsu!_ Yamaguchi’s mom said she could drive us all to your game, is that alright?!” Shouyou bursts through the front door, tripping over his shoes as he unlaces them.

She looks up from the kitchen table, a bit distracted by her homework. “That’s fine, anyone can g—“ Shouyou whoops with joy. “—long as you get a pass,” she continues, eyes already glued back to the math worksheet. 

“What’s the Dateko club like?” Shouyou presses, dumping the contents of his backpack onto the table. “They’re another powerhouse school, I hear.”

“Yeah,” Natsu smiles, finishing a question. “Their team was pretty solid last year, but they relied a lot on third years that have all graduated. So we’re not sure how they’ll do.”

“Are you excited? What’s your jersey number?”

“Number 21,” Natsu shrugs. “It’s not special or anything.”

“Sure it is! Because it’s you!” Shouyou shouts.

Sometimes, even Natsu thinks Hinata Shouyou is too bright. 

“I… thanks, Shoucchan,” Natsu murmurs, staring at the grains of wood on the table. 

He leans on the table, surprised. “Are you gonna cry?”

“_Shut up,_” Natsu means to yell, but it’s more like a squeak, and she immediately puts her head against the table. 

Shouyou chuckles a little, but lets her stay like that for a while to recuperate and pulls out his homework while he waits. Eventually, Natsu emerges, only slightly pink, and begins to lecture him on his poor English grammar.

* * *

pic:

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (In case the pic doesn’t show up)  
Ariyoshi Saori, first year defender
> 
> Power: 4/5  
Resilience: 2/5  
Stamina: 1/5  
Game Sense: 3/5  
Technique: 3/5  
Speed: 2/5  
Rudeness: 6/5
> 
> Likes: pickled plum onigiri  
Current Concern: The girls in the dormitories won’t clean up after themselves


	17. shiratorizawa vs dateko, II

Wednesday arrives.

Natsu’s on the starting lineup as the left wing-back, alongside the regular defenders Kunitake Aimi, Takahashi Hana, and Captain Utsugi as sweeper. They’ve added Ariyoshi Saori as a center-back and put Takahashi-san as the right wing-back, making their starting formation a 5-3-2 today. Dateko is known for their defensive abilities and their runs from set pieces, but Sameshima seemed to be cautious with their defense for now, since Natsu and Ariyoshi were both new to the starting roster. 

They’re in their regular jerseys, dark purple with white and lavender accents. It honestly looks terrible on Natsu’s complexion, but whatever. Her hair clashes with everything anyway. 

Dateko’s team has just arrived, a mob of white and teal, and both teams are setting up their equipment to warm up. There’s still a good thirty-five minutes left before kick off. 

“Ugh, I forgot to fill the cooler,” Akari whines, smacking her forehead. “Ike-chan, can you—?”

“I didn’t work my ass off for the past two years to lug around a water cooler as a senior,” Ikejiri cuts her off flatly. “Use the scrubs.”

Akari brightens right up, clasping her hands together. “Y’know, you’re so smart, Ike-chan. Let’s see… hey, Saori-chan?”

Ariyoshi Saori hurls a mesh bag of pinnies at Hirao so hard that it makes an audible thump as it hits the goalie, scattering colorful bibs on the grass. “Who the _fuck_ is in charge of washing these?! They’re _disgusting!_”

“It wasn’t me!” Hirao cowers.

Akari switches her focus. “_Nacchan_, I need you!” She trills, smiling widely. 

Natsu jogs over, setting the corner flags on the coach’s bench. “Yes, Kurishima-senpai?”

Akari almost cooes. Natsu’s one of the good kouhais. “Would you mind going back to fill up the cooler? The closest sink is up there, by Gym 4.” She points to the top of the hillside. 

It’s the same hillside Natsu recently caught Semi Eita and his team stripping for reasons unknown, but Akari is unaware of this. “Yeah sure I guess I can do that,” Natsu squeaks all in one breath, grappling with the empty cooler and scuttering off. 

“Aw, I love the energetic ones,” Akari muses, watching the tiny ginger girl become a tiny fluff of orange in the distance. “What a cutie.”

“You’re a sadist,” Ikejiri picks up two of the corner flags to hand them off to the second-years. “Don’t you know how heavy that cooler gets when it’s filled?”

The blonde girl pauses thoughtfully. It seems like Utsugi had already assumed control over the rest of the first years, and Coach Sameshima was going over some formations with the other girls. “I think she can handle it. I have faith in Nacchan.”

“You mean _you_ don't feel like climbing back up that hill to help.”

Akari hums, adjusting her ponytail serenely. “Ike-chan, if I did all the work, how will our kouhai ever learn?”

Ikejiri rolls her eyes and walks away to set up the last two corner flags. “At least I _admit_ I’m a lazy shit.”

* * *

Natsu heaves the cooler over the edge of the metal sink, setting it down beneath the spouts. To her right is Gym 4, but judging by the sounds of activity coming from the building, one of the basketball teams is conducting practice inside. 

Thank god it’s not the volleyball team. If Semi saw her here, he’d definitely crack some _awful_ joke about the water cooler she’s filling up. 

Natsu turns on the taps and leans back as the cooler slowly fills. She tilts her head up to the sky and enjoys the breeze. The weather feels perfect today, partly cloudy and dry. There was a chance of rain, but not until sundown. It’s a little too noisy here to enjoy the outdoors entirely from where she stands, though; down by the field she could hear nothing but distant birds and the rustling of trees, but the basketball team’s shouting a bunch of instructions and drill names from inside the gymnasium. 

“Sure it’s over this way? This doesn’t look right.”

“No, no, no, it’s definitely there—hey, that’s a girl...”

“No _shit_, Sakunami, of course that’s a girl.”

Those aren’t voices coming from the gym. Natsu pulls her gaze away from the clouds and sees four boys in white and teal tracksuits. They’re in the same colors as the opposing team Natsu just saw warming up on the field, Dateko colors. 

But these are not soccer players. 

One of the taller boys, with blonde hair and a dark fringe, smacks the brown-haired boy. “Don’t curse like that, Futakuchi!” He sees Natsu looking at them and waves energetically, suddenly running at her. “Heya! You there! D’you play soccer?!”

And when Natsu says he’s running at her, she means there’s like 190 centimeters running at her. He’s _gigantic_, Ushijima-sized, and Natsu honestly thinks she might get body-slammed.

“Oi, Kogane, _stop_—!” One of them snaps, but it’s the taller, stone-faced student that nabs the blonde boy by the scruff of his jacket and holds him in place.

Natsu hears water splashing. She quickly turns off the faucet and pours out the extra water from the cooler before looking back at the Dateko boys.

“You scared the hell out of her,” one of them hisses.

“No, I’m fine,” Natsu interrupts, but she can hear the nervous edge in her own voice. She shakes her head, focusing on the bigger guy that was glaring at his friend. “Are you Takanobu? _Aone_ Takanobu, I mean?” Natsu asks, taking in his short, silvery hair and flat expression. He certainly looks more like her senpai than anyone else she’s ever met. Aone had mentioned Takanobu before, saying he might come to a game or two. 

Takanobu gives a short grunt. Natsu thinks that’s a yes. He bows, and Natsu bows back. 

“Yeah, and I’m Koganegawa!” The blonde boy chirps next, detangling himself from Takanobu’s large hands. He gives her a bright grin, a sharp contrast to Takanobu. “We’re from Date Tech!”

“Futakuchi Kenji,” the brown-haired student introduces himself with a polite smile. 

“Nice to meet you,” Natsu looks at each of them in turn, before settling on the shortest boy. He’s much shorter than Takanobu and the others, just about Natsu’s height, with neatly parted black hair and wide brown eyes. 

He startles a little when she waits for him to introduce himself, and then bends down into an extra-formal bow. “Sa-Sakunami Kosuke! _F-first year libero, class three—_”

“Jeez, Saku-kun, don’t give her your life story,” Futakuchi gives him a hard smack on the back. “You’re a soccer player, I hope?”

“Yes,” Natsu confirms, tugging on her ugly uniform just a bit before she realizes what she’s doing. “I’m Hinata. Aone-senpai mentioned that her little brother Taka was going to visit,” she explains, looking up (and up, and up) at Takanobu with interest. 

He’s quite stern-looking, even more so than Ushijima. Takanobu was even paler than Yui, and his hair was closer to white than blonde, even his eyelashes and eyebrows were so pale, they were almost translucent. Oh, but she’s staring now. She shouldn’t do that. But she wants to ask him like a billion questions. She shouldn’t do that either. 

“Um,” Natsu pulls her gaze back to Futakuchi and Saku and Ko-something-awa. “That’s our field down there,” she points down the field to where the girls are setting up. “The bleachers on the right side are usually for the home team, and on the left is for away, but it shouldn’t matter where you sit, it’s not crowded,” Natsu assures them.

Goshiki mentioned he would come by after practice, and Shouyou was coming with Yamaguchi. The soccer team also gathered a small audience of passing students, and sometimes the boy’s soccer club as well, but that was all. Natsu thinks Tendou and Kawanishi were also planning on stopping by, but she isn’t sure when. 

“Thanks!!” The blonde boy interjects, speaking over Futakuchi. “You’re _really_ nice, you said your name was Hinata, right?”

“Hinata Natsu,” she repeats fully. “And, I’m sorry, you said you were, um, Konaga...wa?”

“_Koganegawa Kanji!_ I know it’s long, you can just call me Kogane,” he tells her cheerfully. She sees Futakuchi roll his eyes behind him. 

“Okay,” Natsu nods tentatively. “Kogane-san.”

“Um,” Sakunami steps forward, peering at the sink behind her. “Do—do you need help with that cooler?” He asks timidly. 

“Oh, right, I gotta go bring it to the bench!” Natsu turns back to the sink, and the cooler she’s supposed to bring down to the field. As soon as she reaches for the handles, Natsu realizes her dilemma. This thing is much heavier now. And the tub of the sink is deep, so to lift the cooler out she’ll have to hold this thing above her waist—she’s too short to reach it properly.

Natsu looks back at the Dateko students sheepishly. “Yes, please, I need help with this thing,” she admits, exasperated. 

“I could—?“ Sakunami begins to volunteer.

“Nah, leave it to me! I’ll help!” Kogane bounds forward eagerly. “Can’t be that heavy, I’m strong—“

But with a short grunt, Aone Takanobu brushes past them both and scoops up the cooler like it’s an empty water bottle. Some water splashes from the top.

“Wait, wait, wait, get down here,” Natsu zips over to his side, ushering Aone into crouching over. “I don’t want it to spill on you, that happened to Iwabuchi last week—“ Quickly, she screws the lid on securely. 

Aone grunt, frozen in place until she finishes. Then he grabs both handles and lifts the cooler again like it’s nothing.

Natsu stares at him in awe. “Whoa!” She cheers, taking a step back to see him properly. “Thanks, Taka—Aone-kun!”

He grunts again, and Natsu ushers them all down the hill and towards the field. His face looks a little pink, but he seems to be avoiding her gaze so she can’t tell. Behind her, Futakuchi stifles his laughter at the betrayed looks on the first years’ faces, muttering them a teasing ‘don’t mind’. 

“Oh, I gotta ask,” Natsu says suddenly, spinning around to face the visiting students. “Are you rooting for us or Dateko?”

“For _you_, Hinata!” Kogane exclaims immediately. “Totally! I don’t know anything about soccer, though.”

Privately, Natsu wonders why he’s here. Just to hang out with Takanobu? They didn’t seem that close.

“I know two of the Dateko players from class,” Sakunami explains earnestly, eye to eye with Natsu. It was nice to talk to someone without ending up with a crick in her neck. “I’m not rooting for either team, I guess? I can’t choose.” 

“And I’m here to make sure these three don’t get in trouble,” Futakuchi smiles placidly as Kogane and Sakunami glare at him. “I’ve met Yui-nee-san before, though. Who’d pass up a chance to see _her_ again?”

“I see,” Natsu murmurs. 

Natsu suspects, by his tone, that he isn’t talking about her talent on the soccer field, but doesn’t call him out on it. They reach the coach’s bench just as most of Natsu’s teammates break off for warm up drills, so it’s only Utsugi and Coach Sameshima that notices them at first.

Surprisingly, Utsugi doesn’t scowl. She just peers up at Takanobu neutrally as he places the cooler on the bench. 

“Taka,” she says plainly, hands on her hips. The younger Aone looks down at her stiffly. “I hear you play _volleyball_ now. That’s a shame, you’d make an excellent goalkeeper,” she says chidingly, but with a lightness you’d use to scold a young child. “It’s never too late to switch sports.”

Takanobu makes an audible sigh in response, his gaze averted.

Natsu is mystified. Rumi had a sense of humor? She has a soft spot for Aone Takanobu, of all people? She’ll have to exchange notes with Yunohama after this game. 

Futakuchi makes a strangled noise. “_Taka_,” he repeats in amazement. Aone glares at the brown-haired boy. “You let girls call you _Taka?_” 

It draws Utsugi’s attention to the three other Dateko students, who freeze upon meeting Captain Utsugi’s sharp eyes. “Hey, where are your visitor’s passes?”

Natsu gasps, looking at the boys again. She hadn’t noticed.

“Our what-now?” Futakuchi asks, caught off-guard. “We need passes?”

Natsu glances at Takanobu again, and imagines the school security filing out and surrounding Aone-senpai’s giant little brother, demanding what business a grown man has on a high school campus. She looks at Utsugi urgently. “Captain—?”

“Go,” Utsugi replies, rolling her eyes. “_All of you,_ follow Hinata and do as she says. If we get scolded for having trespassers at _my_ game, there will be consequences for all of you.” 

Takanobu pauses to give Utsugi a proper, respectful bow. “_Domo_,” he says, the first word Natsu has ever heard him speak. She’s not sure if it’s a greeting or an apology, or maybe both.

The captain huffs, almost looking fond, as she returns the gesture. 

Then she glares at Natsu. “Get to it, Hinata. You’re supposed to be warming up already.”

“Right!” Natsu jumps, and hastily begins to urge the boys towards the front building. Futakuchi calls back an apology to Utsugi, but she doesn’t even turn around. 

Thankfully, the Dateko students seem to catch onto her urgency and follow Natsu without protest. “Who was that girl?” Futakuchi asks, looking over his shoulder at the field.

“That’s Captain Utsugi,” Natsu replies. “She’s our sweeper, she’s friends with Takanobu’s sister.” Takanobu just grumbles positively, agreeing with her.

“Sweeper? What’s that?” Kogane wonders. “Not like, with a _broom_, right?”

“No!” Sakunami hisses, sending Kogane an outraged look. “A sweeper is a type of defender! Like, the most _important_ one. The last line before the goalie.”

“That’s right,” Natsu grins, pleased that at least one of them knows the positions. “It’s a roaming defensive player, they don’t mark any players and they’re there to 'sweep up' the ball if the defensive line is broken.”

Futakuchi reaches the door first and holds it open for her. “What position do you play?” He asks kindly. 

Natsu slides past him with a quick smile. “Well, right now I’m—” The door slams behind Aone, right in Kogane's face. She pauses as the blonde student scrambles to open it again, scowling at Futakuchi. “I’m also on defense today,” she continues hesitantly. “It’s a weird choice, if you ask me. I’m usually an attacking player in our drills.” Natsu jumps, quickly holding up her hands. “Not that I’m questioning the captains! ‘Sugi-senpai was really insistent, I’m just glad I’m on the starting roster, I know she could just replace me with any of the second-years if she felt like it!”

“Ah! So you are a first year,” Kogane realizes excitedly. “I was about to ask! I’m a first year too, I think I wanna be a setter—”

“He’s not a starter though,” Futakuchi smirks, hooking an arm over Kogane’s shoulders. Kogane is taller, though, so he’s forced to slouch under Futakuchi’s weight. “Moniwa is our main setter. _I’m_ the ace of Dateko.”

“I’m a libero,” Sakunami adds shyly, and then his face goes red. “I said that already, didn’t I?” Kogane laughs a little too loudly at that, and Sakunami jabs him in the side. 

Natsu… pretends not to see any of that, to save Sakunami the embarrassment. She turns away to approach the secretary at the front desk. “Irihata-san, hello! I have some visitors for the soccer game and they need to sign in.”

The older lady smiles kindly, far different from the secretary Natsu met at Aoba Johsai. “Oh course, sweetheart. Four students? That shouldn’t be a problem. My goodness, you boys are tall… Just sign this sheet, and make sure your stickers are visible at all times,” Irihata says easily, pulling out the adhesive badges out for them. “And I need you to sign too, honey. You were here yesterday to approve other visitors, but these are different boys, huh?”

“Oh, yeah,” Natsu agrees, printing her name and class number carefully. “My brother goes to Karasuno, it might take a while for him to get here. Hey, Irihata-san, you know Aone Yui, right? Look, this is her little brother!”

“I-I see,” Irihata agrees nervously, her head craned upward to look at him. “Younger brother. I wouldn’t h-have guessed.”

Futakuchi thanks the secretary swiftly for all of them, and passes out the stickers. 

Natsu sighs. “Alright, it was nice to meet you all but I kinda have to go,” she says apologetically as they exit the building. She lifts her feet one at a time to stretch her quads, and then does a few bouncing steps to loosen up. 

“Aren’t we going the same way?” Sakunami points out curiously. 

“Yeah, but if I walk back, Captain will yell at me!” Natsu laughs. “Thanks for coming! See you later!” 

She starts out at a jog, and picks up the pace into a conservative sprint back to the field. 

On the way, she passes two familiar purple jerseys. “_Hey guys I’m running late!_” Natsu shouts to Goshiki and Kawanishi, turning back to wave at them quickly. 

“O-Oh! Hey Hinata,” Goshiki replies belatedly, his voice faint. Natsu steps up to the chain-link fence around the field and pulls herself over it to save time; the gate’s much further down from where her team’s sitting in a circle to stretch.

“Oi, oi, _Nacchan!_” Iwabuchi laughs at her as she scrambles to unzip her jacket. “Way to make an entrance. Where the hell have you been?”

“Sorry!” Natsu cries, bowing a few times to Aone and Utsugi. “I’m back, sorry to keep you waiting.”

Captain Utsugi glares. “That’s not the problem, Hinata.”

“Eh? But I got them signed in like you asked,” she insists, collapsing onto the grass to get into the same stretching position as the others. “I wasn’t gone long!”

“Hinata, have you looked at the bleachers?” Yokoyama asks. Aone clicks her tongue irritably. 

The bleachers? Natsu twists her torso around to look back at the stands. There’s a cluster of black gakurans, Karasuno’s school uniform, sitting in the front. There’s also a ton of Shiratorizawa uniforms crowding the bleachers, way more than usual. Both school uniforms and purple track jackets from the athletic clubs. 

“Oh, _wow_,” Natsu gapes. The crowd was _nothing_ like this for the Johzenji match! No one said anything about their home games getting much attention, so this had to be a surprise for the whole team. She looks back at Utsugi, but doesn’t know what to say.

The captain sighs. “If any of you freak out, I’ll bench you,” she adds, before moving onto the next stretch.

* * *

As the team disperses from the field and back onto the sidelines to listen to the coach, Yui hangs back with Rumi, throwing her an inquisitive look.

Rumi sighs again. “Are we really doing this today? I thought we’d wait.”

“I don’t see why,” Yui says plainly. “This is a big crowd for a regulation game.”

The two of them finally give in to take a closer look at their audience. Dozens of white blazers from the student body fill the stands now. Hinata Natsu mentioned there might be a few people from Karasuno watching as well, and Yui could pick out a handful of black gakurans in the sea of people. 

A mane of spiky red hair stands out on the far side of the benches. Tendou starts waving with both hands when he notices her looking. Beside him, Ushijima waves awkwardly, like he’s never done it before. Yui doesn’t wave back, but she is pleased to see them. 

“Never thought I’d see the day where you of all people wanted to show off,” Rumi mutters. Yui turns to her to protest this, but the captain just flashes her a grin. 

“Dateko knows our offense,” Yui says assuredly, all business again. “They tend to overcommit.”

The captain hums, thinking it over. But she likes the idea of this crowd watching them in action just as much as Yui. “Don't beat yourself up if it doesn't work. And wait until I get a feel for their attacks. Then you can try it.”

Yui smiles, but has to demur. “You know it’s not just me that has to pull it off,” she turns her gaze away from Rumi and towards the starting members gathered around Sameshima. “Every play is a team effort.”

The captain and her vice finally approach the bench, catching the coach’s eye. Sameshima smirks, somehow catching on without them saying a word. 

“Let’s have fun today, ladies,” Sameshima declares. “I want an indisputable win.”

* * *

A/N: more ariyoshi and natsu bc i love them

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hirao Chika, first year goalkeeper
> 
> Power: 3/5  
Resilience: 3/5  
Stamina: 2/5  
Game Sense: 1/5  
Technique: 2/5  
Speed: 1/5  
Politeness: 4/5
> 
> Likes: Cats and lizards and small things <3  
Current Concern: Ariyoshi thinks she’s a slob


	18. shiratorizawa vs dateko, III

Having so many people watching is exciting! Natsu wishes she had the chance to talk to Shouyou or Goshiki before the game, but it’ll have to wait. She has a lot to say to them: Shouyou has four boys with him, not just Yamaguchi, and she doesn’t even recognize the one with the gelled hair—oh no _did they even check in for the visitor passes?? _

She remembers telling Shouyou how to get passes, but… Natsu takes a second to pull aside Hirao before she has to step onto the field, asking the reserve keeper to speak to Shouyou about visitor rules.

Even if Hirao gets Shouyou sorted out, that doesn’t explain _Goshiki!_ What is he doing here with his ENTIRE TEAM? Why is half the school trying to cram onto the bleachers for a _regulation game?!_ It _must_ be the volleyball team’s presence that’s attracting so many onlooking students; word spread quickly at the Academy. Natsu nearly cries when she realizes that Aimi Kunitake has her phone out every time the coach’s back is turned, adding to her snapchat story. _Everyone_ keeps up with Aimi’s snap story! Everyone is going to be watching this match! 

It’s not even an important game, but suddenly the pressure has increased _tenfold_. 

(Natsu reiterates to herself that she’s _excited_ at having an audience, and not terrified out of her mind that she’ll screw this up.)

By the time the teams are on the field for kick off, the bleachers are filled. Natsu never imagined it would be anything like this; that she would feel anything like this, with a crowd at her back. It’s incredible. Terrifying, but _incredible_. Not every match is memorable, but this is one feels like so much more than just a game. 

“KORRAAAAA!” Yamane screeches from the halfway line, making Natsu jump. Yamane bounces on the balls of her feet, loosening up. “Look at all these fans! Hell yeah!” She pumps a fist at the bleachers, and grins maniacally when people wave back and cheer. 

Faintly, Natsu can pick out her brother’s voice. She’s on the far side of the field from the bleachers, so she can’t call back anything to him. Instead she just raises an arm towards the bleachers in an aimless wave, her eyes focused on the referee as the ball is placed in the center circle. 

Her heart is pounding. It feels like the whole world is watching, almost. It’d be even better if her parents could watch, but they’ve never had time for school activities. Having Shouyou there to cheer her on is enough. 

Captain Utsugi stands just beyond the penalty box, arms at rest at her sides as she scans the field. Natsu recalls the last-minute discussion Utsugi dragged her into, alongside Ariyoshi and Takahashi and a senior midfielder, Sakaguchi. Natsu isn’t used to getting coached just before a match, but at least her directions were simple...

Her gaze shifts past the captain to their keeper. The referee calls for Aone’s attention, a formal check before starting the match, and the tall, pale girl waves back silently, her face relaxed into a neutral glare she often wore.

The whistle blows, and Dateko starts with a hard back pass to their midfielder. Natsu lets the cheering crowd melt away as the game begins.

* * *

“I can’t believe Nacchan leapt over the fence like an action hero!” Nishinoya raves, shaking Shouyou by the shoulder as Natsu joins her team warm-up. “Your sister’s freakin’ cool!”

“I think she was just running late,” Yamaguchi laughs. Shouyou can’t help but agree.

“Nacchan’s gonna do great and all, but…” Tanaka interrupts, leaning back and peering through a gap in the crowd. “Are we gonna talk about the fact that the _entire volleyball club_ is sitting right there, or not?”

“That’s them?” Yamaguchi whispers.

“That’s _definitely_ them. Ushiwaka is the big guy next to the redhead,” Tanaka confirms with narrowed eyes.

Shouyou bites the inside of his cheek and exhales slowly. Beside him, Kageyama glares a hole into the soccer field, refusing to look away. The setter decided to join them at the last minute, as soon as the third years and Tsukishima had left school. Yamaguchi was kind enough to let him join, but Shouyou is still wary about it all. 

“Shouyooooou,” Nishinoya whines, still clutching his arm. “_Please_ let us talk to them.”

Yamaguchi shakes his head sharply. “We can’t pick a fight, we’re not even here for volleyball,” he says firmly. 

“Who said anything ‘bout _fighting?!_” Tanaka complains.

“I was at the Seijoh match,” Yamaguchi points out. “Daichi isn’t here to break up any arguments this time.”

“Maybe I just wanna tell them we’re gonna _beat their asses at InterHigh!_” Noya argues. Tanaka cracks his knuckles.

Yamaguchi stares, wondering if bringing them along was a bad idea after all. _Tsukki’s never letting me live this down. _

“Nacchan is friends with a bunch of them,” Shouyou points out firmly, though it’s killing him inside. He can see Ushijima from here. The best spiker in the prefecture. He’s _huge_. Shouyou wants to see how high he can jump…. “Yamaguchi is right. What if it ends up like Aoba Johsai? I’m not upsetting Nacchan over this.”

“But why are all of them here?” Kageyama grits out. “I recognize the starters. Is she friends with the whole team? _How?_”

“I don’t know…” Shouyou doesn’t really have an answer for that. Throughout elementary school and up to junior high, the two of them shared friend groups. Nacchan had girl friends too, of course, but she spent a lot of time with Shouyou messing around on playgrounds and competing in games, so—

“She’s kind of a tomboy,” Shouyou says at last, realizing this for the first time. “Nacchan gets along well with other athletes,” he adds. 

“And here I thought _you_ were the friendliest person I ever met,” Yamaguchi muses, watching the Shiratorizawa team gather in a huddle around their coach and captains. 

_Well, I wouldn’t call her the friendliest girl,_ Shouyou thinks to himself. _She still doesn't know her team very well. _

“Son of a bitch,” Tanaka hisses all of a sudden, grabbing Noya. “Is that the _Dateko_ team?!”

The libero goes rigid. “_The Iron Wall_…”

Shouyou is confused. They’re not looking at the Dateko soccer team on the field, but another group of extremely tall guys in white and teal tracksuits instead, lining up along the chain-link fence to watch the game. His jaw drops. “Are those—? Is that _Dateko’s volleyball team?_ What the heck are they doing here?”

“Yeah, those are definitely first and second years from the Dateko volleyball club,” a voice interrupts, and a stranger leans between Tanaka and Yamaguchi from the bench above them, a grin splitting his face. “Yo, I don’t recognize your uniforms, where’re you guys from?”

The Karasuno team exchanges wary looks. 

“...Karasuno High School,” Shouyou answers, looking him up and down suspiciously. He’s definitely some kind of athlete, with his build, but his hair is bleached golden and he’s wearing a black stud in each ear. He’s not wearing any uniform, but looks about the same age as the other students. “Wh-who are you?”

“The name’s Terushima,” He smiles sunnily. “I’m from Johzenji. You guys play volleyball?” He points a thumb at the two boys next to him, and the grin he gives Shouyou is closer to a smirk. “So do we.”

“Oh my _god_,” Yamaguchi murmurs, clutching at his blazer. “How many volleyball players are watching this soccer game?!”

(The answer: more than you think)

“I’m surprised too,” Terushima replies, unfazed, leaning on one fist. “Didn’t think Ushiwaka would show up,” he says conspiratorially. “I was at the last game, there was only like a handful of people watching. Kinda spooky that we all showed up for this one, eh?”

There’s a beat of silence between the players. 

Kageyama suddenly springs to his feet. “That’s it! I’m _going_, I have to get a better look at—”

“Kageyama, _no!_” Surprisingly, it’s Yamaguchi that lunges for him first, hauling him back onto the bench. Shouyou helps, latching onto the setter’s waist. “Ignore them!”

Nishinoya breaks next. “Let’s check out the Dateko blockers too! We gotta prepare Asahi for those _giants!_”

“Noya-san!” Tanaka cries, tightening his hold on the back of the libero’s jacket when he leaps in the opposite direction. “Wait! Leave ‘em alone! You can’t pick a fight with the Iron Wall here!”

Nishinoya thrashes in Tanaka’s grip.“I HAVE to—!”

Kageyama shoves at Shouyou’s face, to no avail. “Let go, _boke!_ Let me talk to Shiratorizawa’s damn setter—!”

“No! Stop calling me a dumbass! You agreed to come for Nacchan, you’re staying to watch Nacchan!”

“Ne, is Nacchan that little ginger girl?” Terushima mutters to his friend, Bobata, idly watching Karasuno tear itself apart. To be honest it’s more interesting than the soccer game about to start, though Yuuji won’t tell Risako-chan that. 

“Must be, she looks like the shorty,” Bobata agrees, comparing the bright orange hair of the Karasuno boy to the little #21 in a purple uniform. “She's tiny, but you know those soccer types, they’ve got a certain _look_. Nice.”

“And a lot of energy,” Terushima agrees smugly.

“Y’think Risako-chan would introduce us?” Bobata wonders. 

Kageyama continues to struggle against Yamaguchi and Hinata. “_Boke!_ The game’s 90 minutes long, I won't miss anything—”

“_What did you just say?_” Shouyou asks suddenly, ignoring Kageyama and turning his frigid gaze onto Terushima’s friend. “You, _Johzenji guy_. I’m talking to you.”

“Yeah!” Noya adds, mimicking Shouyou’s glare. “What’d you say about Nacchan?”

“What?” Bobata blinks at him. “Nothing, shrimpy, don’t worry about it.”

Shouyou sees red. “_Shrimpy—?!_”

“Oi!” Kageyama yelps. Suddenly it’s him and Yamaguchi holding back Shouyou. “Calm down, dumbass—!”

“Um, e-excuse me?” A shrill voice interrupts. “You, in the black gakuran? Are you H-Hinata Shouyou?”

The Karasuno boys freeze in place, awkwardly tangled in each others’ arms. Shouyou releases Kageyama slowly, glaring at Bobata one last time before lifting his head. “Uh… That’s me?”

The voice belongs to a girl in a fluorescent-yellow jersey leaning against the fence, looking hesitantly at Shouyou. She’s in a soccer uniform, but not in either of the teams’ colors—instead, her shirt is long-sleeved, and she has tape wrapped around two fingers like she’s recently jammed them. She’s also as tall as Yamaguchi, which is kinda unusual for a soccer player unless they’re a goalkeeper...

“Oh!” Shouyou exclaims, just as the girl goes to talk, unintentionally cutting her off. “You must be _Hirao-san_, the first-year goalkeeper!” Shouyou hops down from the bench to meet her at the gate. “Hi, I’m Shouyou!”

The girl startles, clearly not expecting to be recognized. “Um. Yes. Th-that’s me… Hirao…” She trails off as Shouyou’s teammates follow him like ducklings to stand along the fence as well, looking alarmed that he’s backed up by four other boys. “Hinata-san—uh, your sister asked me to p-pass on a message?”

Shouyou likes Hirao instantly. Despite the fact that Hirao is tall and dark-haired, he’s strongly reminded of a short, smart blonde girl in his elective class. The one with the hair clip. What was her name? Yakiniku? No, that’s food...

“You’re on the team with Nacchan, huh?” Nishinoya pipes up, looking up at the girl with interest. “That’s awesome! Your uniform is way cooler, too! You stand out a lot!”

Hirao looks ready to pass out, red as a beet. “Th-th-thank you. It-it’s because I’m a goalie. B-but, u-uh, Captain Utsugi—“ she pauses, gathering herself, “Hinata-san will be in trouble if she has guests on campus without visitors’ passes,” she says all in one breath. 

“Hah?!” Tanaka demands loudly, and Hirao jolts again. “We need _passes_ to watch the game?!”

“I-I’m sorry!” Hirao squeaks, refusing to meet any of their eyes. “I thought you knew! Hinata said she told her brother, but she didn’t know how many were visiting, so—!“

“Did she?” Shouyou wonders. He didn’t remember that part. “Whoops. I must’ve not heard her. So then how do we get passes?” 

Kageyama smacks the back of his head. “Are you telling me we’re trespassing here?! _Boke_, Hinata—“ he begins to shake Shouyou by the collar of his shirt.

“Please don’t be mad!” Hirao warbles, nervously clutching at the hem of her shirt. She definitely reminds Shouyou of that little blonde classmate from Karasuno. Ah, _Yachi-san,_ that’s who he’s thinking of!

“This place is so _bougie_, holy crap!” Tanaka elbows Nishinoya, griping. 

“It’s not your fault, Hirao—“ Yamaguchi tries to assure her.

“Stop shaking me, Kageyama!” Shouyou yells, slapping at his hand. “We have to go get passes, fighting me doesn’t solve anything—“

Hirao looks like she’s in pain. “I’m so sorry, please stop yelling—!“

“All of you, _quiet down_,” someone interrupts, yanking Kageyama and Shouyou apart in order to reach the fence in front of Hirao. “You’re being a nuisance.”

He has dark blonde hair and wears a look of deep disgust on his face. There’s something oddly familiar about him to Shouyou, but he’s pretty sure they’ve never met. Also, he’s in a Shiratorizawa warm-up jacket, the signature light purple printed with the ominous words:_ Shiratorizawa Volleyball Club. _

“Oh. I know you,” Hirao squeaks in surprise. “_Shirabu-san_, right? W-What’re you doing here?”

A slight frown pulls at Shirabu’s mouth. “I—was just passing by,” he says dismissively, before turning his gaze onto Karasuno. “Why are you harassing the goalie?” Shirabu demands. He glares at Kageyama in particular like he’s just killed a cat. 

Hirao, the angel that she clearly is, comes to their defense. “They need visitors’ passes for the game, and a student to sign them in, but I don’t want to leave the field, we’re about to start...”

“I see,” the student replies, his eyes not leaving the Karasuno players. “I can take it from here,” Shirabu assures her briskly.

He’s strangely calculating and blank-faced. Shouyou is convinced he’s about to be taken out behind the bleachers and murdered. 

“A-Are you sure?” Hirao asks, perplexed. “I-I can go, I just need to get permission first and—”

“I’m not really interested in watching the game, so I don’t mind,” he points out.

Shouyou feels his teeth clench uncomfortably in his jaw. Why was this Shirabu guy hanging around a soccer field if he wasn’t going to watch the game? _Suspicious_. This better not be one of Natsu’s friends, or they’ll need to have a talk about what sort of people she’s getting caught up with. 

“Okay,” Hirao says cautiously, eyes darting between Shirabu and the others. “Thanks?”

“Tell Hinata she owes me one.” Shirabu says, before turning to the Karasuno team. Shouyou knows he looks mutinous, and his teammates are no better—they’ve all spotted the warm up jacket he’s sporting. Shirabu clicks his tongue and threatens, “Follow me to the office or I’ll have you all kicked off school grounds.”

“Wha—?!” Tanaka splutters, but Yamaguchi grabs his arm and whispers harshly to him until he settles down. 

“You don’t want to embarrass your little sister, do you?” Shirabu says blandly, eyeing Shouyou balefully. “This school is serious about trespassers. She’ll be lucky if she gets away with just a scolding.”

He turns around and begins to walk away from the field. Shouyou stares after him, torn. “Ugh!” He scowls, stomping after the jerk. “If you cared about Natsu you wouldn’t threaten to kick us off campus!” he points out as his teammates trail after him reluctantly. “Who _are_ you anyway, huh?”

“Shirabu Kenjirou,” he answers over his shoulder, not even looking at Shouyou. “Who are _you?_”

Shouyou grits his teeth, glaring a hole into the back of Shirabu’s head. “I’m Hinata Shouyou, Nacchan’s big brother.”

“You don’t look like it,” Shirabu mutters. Yamaguchi snorts loudly before clapping a hand over his mouth. 

“What does that mean, hah?!” Shouyou snaps, catching up to the sullen boy. “We look _exactly alike!_”

“Not exactly,” Shirabu replies evenly, giving Shouyou a once-over. “I think she’s taller, isn’t she?”

Shouyou’s jaw drops as his face flushes with color. “S-so what if she’s taller for now?! Shut up!” He snaps, turning around to glare at Kageyama and Yamaguchi as well, because he sure as heck could hear them snickering too. “God! I feel bad for Nacchan if she has to deal with _you_ every day, _Shirabu_.”

The blonde student just rolls his eyes as they approach one of the Academy’s buildings, something that looks like a front office. 

“Uwaah! This place really is fancy!” Nishinoya remarks, looking around so much it’s like his head is on a swivel stick. “Ryuu, I can see _horses_ from here!”

“Awesome! Sick!” Tanaka howls, looking back at the horses and waving at them. 

“Do you expect them to wave back?” Yamaguchi wonders, exasperated. 

“Oi, Shirabu,” Kageyama says at last, just as they approach a secretary’s desk. “I think you’re the main setter for the Academy... am I right?”

That seems to draw Shirabu’s interest, for once. He sets his eyes on Kageyama again, calculatingly. “Yes, pretty much.” He turns away to address the secretary, politely asking for the sign-up sheet from Irihata-san. 

Kageyama seems to stew for a while, unsure of how to proceed. Shouyou feels for him, because _this_ setter is the coldest he's ever encountered too. Eventually Shirabu turns around and instructs them each to sign in for the secretary.

“Oh, goodness,” the secretary says, upon seeing Shouyou. “You must be Hinata Shouyou, oh, just look at that hair! You look just like your sister, it’s uncanny!”

Shouyou laughs, scribbling down his name. “Yeah, we’re hard to miss, huh? Nice to meet you, ma’am.” Irihata-san reminds him of Granny Kiho, his next-door neighbor that constantly coos over how cute they are. 

Irihata-san titters with laughter. As Yamaguchi goes to sign his name, the secretary continues. “Seems like a very popular game, your sister was in here earlier with Aone-san’s brother and his friends.”

“Aone Yui?” Shouyou recognizes the name. “That’s the goalie, right?”

“Yes, and her brother goes to Dateko,” Irihata-san chatters, shuffling papers. “Now those Aone kids, _they’re_ hard to miss!”

_Does the goalie’s brother also play volleyball?_ Shouyou remembers that one of the big Dateko has white hair—he didn’t get a good look at them, but it had to be Aone. And Natsu signed them in? Maybe he’d say hi? Behind him, Noya and Tanaka share conflicted a look.

“...And _you_, Kenjirou-kun,” the secretary addresses the Shiratorizawa student out of the blue, startling him. “No volleyball today? I only ever see you sign in visitors for your own matches.”

“...There was no match today. We just had training, and it ended a little early,” Shirabu admits timidly, not meeting the secretary’s eyes. “I’m just doing this as a favor to Hinata-san.”

Shouyou watches Shirabu with narrowed eyes. So he _is_ one of Natsu’s friends, then? Why is he acting so _weird?_

“Oho?” Tanaka pipes up, rubbing his chin and leaning into Shirabu’s space. “I’m sure Nacchan would like it more if you stayed for the game, though.”

Shirabu glares a hole into Tanaka, while Irihata-san hums in agreement. “Oh, I can tell she’s very excited about this all. Such a sweet girl.” Finally, the secretary passes out the official sticker ID things for each of the visiting students, and the group of boys heads back to the field. “Have fun at the game!”

As soon as they’re out of the secretary’s earshot, Shouyou turns to Shirabu again. “So you _are_ one of Natsu’s friends,” he says, getting in front of the setter and walking backwards to face him fully. Shirabu scowls. “I feel like I know you from somewhere,” Shouyou adds. “You didn’t go to Yukigaoka Junior High, did you?”

“No. I’ve never met you before in my life,” Shirabu says bluntly. Shouyou isn't surprised, but he still thinks there’s something familiar about him. “And I’m not friends with Hinata, I just. Know her.”

“Hah?” Shouyou frowns at him. “So why’re you even helping me?”

“What does it matter? You have passes now, my job is done,” Shirabu retorts, suddenly diverging from the pathway that leads back to the field. “Go watch the game and stop bothering me.”

“Oi, oi, oi,” Nishinoya flanks Shirabu with Tanaka, arms crossed. “You heard the old lady. Don’t you want Nacchan to have a big crowd to cheer her on??”

“Uh, yeah. That’s why _you’re_ all here, isn't it?” Shirabu stares down Nishinoya with disdain. “Leave me out of it. I don’t even like soccer.”

“OI!” Someone calls from the building. “_SHIRABU!_ I lost my phone again!” A dark haired student waves to the setter as he approaches, followed by two younger students. “You gotta help me find it—!"

The Karasuno students all watch the waves of conflict wash over Shirabu Kenjirou’s face as he battles between two equally unpleasant options. Yamagata _constantly_ loses his phone, and there’s no guarantee of Shirabu finding it in a timely manner. The libero can and will rope anyone into helping him out, and won't feel the slightest bit guilty when his phone turns up in a jacket pocket three hours later. On the other hand, Hinata Natsu wasn’t a terribly annoying person, and Ushijima was in the bleachers already. 

It's a no brainer. 

“Well fuck that,” Shirabu mutters to himself. “Sorry, I can’t help you, Yamagata-senpai. I’m already late to Hinata’s game.” He swerves around Nishinoya and back onto the pathway downhill. 

“What! You said you weren’t goin—?“

“Good luck finding your phone. Bye.”

_“SHIRABU!”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shirabu is a tsundere, he's too cool to admit he wants to root for natsu too


	19. shiratorizawa vs dateko, IV

Hirao Chika watches as Dateko’s auburn-haired midfielder is swapped out for a tall, familiar-looking brunette. 

“Is that a new player?” Ichise wonders. “I don’t remember that big #07 from last year.”

Chika stares harder at #07’s back. She’s certain she knows this player, but can’t quite remember who she is. Straight brown hair, a white headband…._ No, it’s not..._

“They gave a first year one of the first ten jerseys, that’s kinda weird too,” Sugita agrees. “Nice cleats. Green, huh?”

#07 jogs up to the sideline and her teammate, who was about to throw in the ball, hands it off to her instead. Chika’s heart plummets into her stomach. She remembers this girl from junior high. “Oh, no—wait, _wait_, no—“ 

“Hirao?” Her teammate asks, surprised to see the reserve keeper scrambling to her feet, waving frantically to the teammates on the field. “What’s wrong?”

“Yoshi! Takahashi!” Chika hollers, gesturing sharply. There’s three Dateko players making runs despite the fact that they’re at the midway line, nowhere near Shiratorizawa’s goal. It was too far up the field for most attacking plays, so the defenders weren’t marking them. 

Ariyoshi looks up when she hears Hirao screeching from the sidelines, catching the glimpse of movement from one of the players in white out of the corner of her eye. Hirao is frazzled. Dateko is moving quickly. Why? What’s changed?

_Wait, they’re gonna…?_ Ariyoshi realizes in surprise.

* * *

Goshiki steals another glance at the orange-haired boy sitting in the first row of bleachers. The wing spiker fidgets, weighing the pros and cons in his mind of going over and introducing himself to the Other Hinata. There’s no doubt that it’s Hinata’s brother, their hair is exactly the same and at first glance, Goshiki had thought Natsu was sitting in the stands instead. They were even around the same height and build.

Shirabu had walked with them back to the bleachers, but the setter was being ridiculously tight-lipped over the whole ordeal. Shirabu hadn't said anything about wanting to watch the soccer game, but now he was on the bleachers, scowling at any teammate that questioned his presence.

“Kawanishi-san?” Goshiki turns to the middle blocker hesitantly. “Is Hinata’s brother older or younger than her?”

“You mean you don’t already know?” Shirabu interrupts, arms crossed. 

Goshiki grimaces. “I don’t remember! And I just thought I’d be able to tell!” 

Semi sighs from the bench behind them, elbowing Shirabu in the back. “He goes to high school, so by process of elimination he has to be older than her,” the third year says reasonably. “Because Natsu’s a first year.” Shirabu nods in agreement.

Kawanishi Taichi marvels at the ignorance around him. Shirabu literally _met_ Shouyou, but still wasn’t clued in on the fact that the Hinatas were twins? Incredible. Astounding. True volleyball idiots, the lot of them. 

“But he is pretty short,” Semi continues blithely. “Especially for a volleyball player.”

Kawanishi coughs into his hand suddenly, ducking his head. Shirabu’s nose scrunches up in disgust. “Oi, if you’re sick—”

“It’s nothing,” Kawanishi mutters smoothly, rubbing his face to hide a shit-eating grin. “Just something caught in my throat.” He steals a glance at the basketball player next to him, Hoshino, who just pats his back absently, hiding a smile of his own.

When Goshiki and Shirabu turn away, Tendou scoots down the bench to whisper between Kawanishi and Hoshino. “How long before everyone realizes they’re twins?” The guess blocker asks teasingly. “I’ll bet Eita and Tsutomu won’t know until Natsu spells it out. You two each get a meat bun if I’m wrong.”

Kawanishi tilts his head back minutely, eyes fixed on the field even as he recognizes that Tendou is addressing both him _and_ Tomoki. “Shirabu won’t see it either. I bet you and Ushijima-san two of those yogurt drinks.”

They shake on it. 

“What the hell are you two doing?” Shirabu demands, eyes narrowed as he catches the handshake between them. “Was that a _bet?_ You always shakes hands when you’re making stupid bets.”

“Middle blocker solidarity,” Kawanishi declares gravely, suddenly reaching for the setter and placing his hands on Shirabu’s shoulders. “I’m sorry. You’ll never share our bond, Kenjirou.”

The setter rears back in revulsion, automatically looking to Semi as if to say, ‘_Are you seeing this shit?_’

Semi, however, plays along. “I’m sorry, Kenjirou,” he parrots Kawanishi’s somber tone, “It just wasn’t meant to be.” 

“What does that even_ mean?_” Shirabu snaps, confused by the sudden act they’re putting on. “And don’t call me Kenjirou.”

Kawanishi and Semi lock eyes and begin nodding at each other, as if they’ve confirmed some secret knowledge between them. 

“I hate this team,” Shirabu grumbles, turning away to ignore the nonsensical exchange. “This whole thing is so stupid, I don't know why I bother hanging around you guys.”

Goshiki turns to him irritably. Shirabu’s been complaining all afternoon about soccer, and Goshiki worries that Natsu will end up hearing about it. “You didn’t have to come, Shirabu-san. Do you even _like_ soccer?”

“Do _you?_” Shirabu shoots right back, though he crosses his arms defensively as he speaks. “I’m not busy today, and none of the starters stayed for extra practice, so I came here.” Furtively, his eyes cut to the left where Ushijima is sitting with Tendou. 

“I’m here for my _friend!_” Goshiki answers stubbornly. “I was _specifically_ invited. So was Tendou-senpai and Ushijima-senpai!”

That was the real kicker, wasn’t it? Ushijima got invited to _everything_, and never went to _any_ school events. So the fact that Tendou had gotten him to sit down at this game intrigued Shirabu and the rest of the team. Apparently a girl in Tendou’s class, the soccer team’s vice captain, had invited them to the game. Reon, Yunohama, Semi, and Jin had tagged along, so the only regular missing was Yamagata, because he’d misplaced his phone and was running around campus with two (unwilling) first years trying to find it. Kawanishi and his friend from the basketball team had decided to stop by too. 

Semi chuckles, leaning forward and blatantly eavesdropping. “I thought it’d be nice to surprise Hinata, but uh,” he gestures lazily to the rest of the student body that decided to show up. “Not sure I make much of a difference at this point.”

Shirabu rolls his eyes. “Like she’d care either way if you were here,” he says under his breath, just loud enough for Semi to overhear. 

“Oi, what’s _that_ supposed to mean?” Semi asks angrily. 

“Nothing.”

“God, you’re such a little _shit_—” but before Semi can get worked up into a proper tantrum, Reon leans over and manages to distract him with a bag of spicy chips. Shirabu rolls his eyes again. Of course the offer of food would work on Semi...

Great, now _Shirabu_ wants chips.

The crowd’s cheering begins to rise in volume, and their attention goes back to the field as Hinata’s team gets the ball up the field. One of the outside runners is forced out of bounds, and the ball goes to Dateko. 

Dateko uses the pause to make a substitution. There’s a little number board (it looks like the scoreboard they use in practice games) that shows which players are being subbed on or off. #18 for #07.

Suddenly, the fluorescent yellow girl on the Shiratorizawa bench starts to yell urgently, shouting directions to the players on the field.

* * *

_Took ‘em long enough to sub me in_, Kimura thinks to herself irritably, shrugging off the usual yapping from Himuro-senpai as she’s subbed off the field. “Don’t be sloppy”, “just follow the captain’s lead”, “the Academy’s defense is solid” yadda yadda yadda. 

None of it _mattered_. What matters is if Kimura can give the Dateko strikers a head start or not. And the answer is _hell yeah._

A teammate hands off the soccer ball to Kimura, pressing it into her hands with a stern look. She grins back at them, her tongue poking out between her teeth. 

_“No other team in the prefecture has a player like you,”_ her captain told her the other day. _“You’re a wild card for us, Kimura.”_

_“So I should always be in the game,_” she had answered tartly, digging her hands into her new Dateko jersey. _“You put me on the starting roster, so why aren’t I on the field all the time?”_

_“Because a wild card doesn’t always work in our favor,”_ the third year snapped. _“It’s just a ploy that makes the outcome less predictable. What I want is certainty. I want you to create opportunities.”_

Kimura’s old coaches and teammates in junior high never treated her like this. Dateko wasn’t well-known for their soccer program, but this team… this team felt different to Kimura. Driven. Organized. Like a well-oiled machine. And they acted like Kimura was a wrench thrown into the works. 

Well, she’s not here to hold her team back. _Never_. Kimura knows what she’s capable of. 

_I’m here to clear a path. _

The soccer ball twirls in her palms, a little slick with dew and grass. Kimura lifts her head to the referee, who blows the whistle to restart the game. She takes a step back. And then another.

* * *

One of Natsu’s teammates, the yellow-shirt one, Hirao, is frantically yelling at the other players, waving her arms sharply. “Back, back!” the short-haired girl shouts. “Yoshi, cover!”

The audience murmurs in confusion, speculating why they’re so concerned with a throw-in. There’s already been a few throw-ins, and none seemed very important. Shirabu takes a look at the Dateko girl, a #07 emblazoned on her back, who scoops up the ball. She’s on the taller side, lean with broad shoulders. 

#07 doesn’t stand at the edge of the field, but several paces away from the painted lines. The referee blows the whistle, and instead of immediately throwing the ball back onto the field, #07 runs up to the line with quick and evenly spaced steps—_K__inda like what you’d used in a jump serve, huh_—her feet stop just short of the painted line, her back arched, and then—

_Whoosh. _

The ball isn’t thrown, it’s been _launched_.

“What the _fuck_,” Shirabu says aloud, as the soccer ball hurdles down the sideline, falling like a mortar from the sky and right into the path of another Dateko player just meters away from the penalty area. 

“Like a canon,” Goshiki comments, eyes wide. “Wow. I didn’t know you could just chuck it like that!”

“_A long throw?!_” Someone hollers from the lower stand. It sounds eerily like Natsu. When Shirabu looks for the speaker, sure enough, it’s her orange-haired brother. “Uwahh, it’s basically _a set piece!_ They’re out of position now, that’s a nasty trick!” 

Shiratorizawa scrambles back onto defense, and—the crowd starts to shout again, tensions rising as Dateko makes two unhindered passes, getting closer and closer to the goal. #13 from Shiratorizawa makes a desperate, vicious dive for their striker, almost kicking out their legs from under them, but misses—

“Shit!” Shirabu finds himself shouting alongside the rest of the audience when Dateko’s striker, half a step faster than the defender, takes a direct shot on goal. “No!”

* * *

_No!_ Natsu screams in her head. She’s so far from the goal, the attacking play started on her side of the field but with #07’s throw-in, it was all the other defenders that had to catch up with Dateko’s strikers. 

_I’m so far,_ she thinks in desolation, _But I could double back to cover #07, in case of a rebound—?_

Down the field, Aone dives for the ball, scooping it up easily. _Safe_. No rebounds. No goal yet.

Natsu sighs with relief. #07 with the green cleats jogs a few paces ahead of her, muttering in disappointment. Natsu watches her uneasily, conflicted. 

“That’s a shame,” Kimura laughs airily, waving to the teammate that almost scored. “Let’s try again!”

_If #07 moves up any further, I’ll have to move down too,_ Natsu thinks. _Utsugi told me not to mark too closely, but that was before we knew about #07’s throw-in. If she gets to do that again, we’ll get stuck on this half of the field trying to tighten our defense. _

Aone was one of their best players, but attacking plays like #07’s pushed the odds out of her favor. Natsu looks past #07, towards Captain Utsugi. 

_What do we do??_

* * *

Rumi stares back at Hinata, unfazed. _Why are you nervous?_ She wonders. _We already told you what to do. So do it._

* * *

On the sidelines, the crowd watches Aone make a graceful dive, scooping up the ball effortlessly and rolling to her feet in the same motion. “AOOONEE!” People begin shrieking wildly, relief flooding the stands. 

Tendou is especially loud, trying and failing to start up one of the school cheers they usually hear at their volleyball games. 

On the field, Yui doesn’t even hear the cheers. She’s a little ticked off after #07’s unusual stunt, though. She’s never seen someone throw a ball like that from the sideline, except from an Irish player in an professional tournament. Here, though it failed to get them a goal, it made her defensive line _panic_. She had three new defenders right now, and though Kunitake and Ariyoshi put on brave faces, they were obviously freaked out at the idea of conceding another throw-in. And worse, #07 was in Hinata’s territory, but they couldn’t waste Hinata right now by having her mark #07. 

That long throw could, admittedly, be dangerous if it happened closer to the goal—it was as effective as a corner kick for Dateko, more dangerous than your average set piece because the off-sides rules were different for throw-ins. 

No matter. It didn’t make up for Dateko’s lackluster strikers. And Yui’s team is right where she wants them to be. She glances at Rumi, debating. _I know you asked for time, but I'd rather not lose our momentum._

Rumi turns away, shuffling sideways and off to the left to cover the gap. 

Dateko probably assumes Yui can kick pretty far; it’s not surprising for a goalie of her size, so their strikers don’t bother lingering near the goal. But they’re slow on the counter, still looking to attack, and as Yui suspected, their defenders are too committed to their marks. Yamane and Iwabuchi are known to score most of Shiratorizawa’s goals, and Dateko refuses to let a pass get through to them.

Yui drops the ball at her feet, preparing to put it into play.

* * *

Back in the stands, Shouyou bounces up and down on the balls of his feet. That goalkeeper really was something special! He kind of gets why Natsu seems to hero-worship the vice captain. 

“Something’s weird about Nacchan’s team,” Kageyama says out of the blue, his chin resting in one hand. Since coming back from the front office, he’s been surprisingly well-behaved. Kageyama’s nose scrunches up in annoyance. “But I don’t know what.”

“Hm?” Shouyou frowns, looking back at the field. No one’s really moving, because the goalkeeper was still holding the ball. It was a moment for Shiratorizawa to reset themselves and shake off the last attack. “Why do you think so?”

He glares at the field. “Natsu’s still out of position.”

“Eh?!” Shouyou frowns, searching for the familiar orange hair. 

“You said she’s a defender,” Kageyama replies. “She’s not blocking anyone, like the other girls are.”

Shouyou didn’t really remember where each player had started out at the beginning of the game, but Natsu had been moving up and down the sideline so much he’d given up on looking for her again and again unless she was near the ball. 

There were still four or five players lingering in or around the penalty box, but Natsu was far ahead, at the halfway line. Her team was changing their formation. Or maybe they had changed it a while ago?

* * *

“Where’s Hinata?” Goshiki complains, nudging Shirabu’s shoulder. “Isn’t she supposed to be in the back? It’s hard to keep track of her.”

Shirabu scowls. “She’s literally right there, she looks like a traffic cone,” he says, pointing to the circle in the middle of the field. Then he scowls harder. “Oi, did she switch places with #16? There’s only four people in the back now, what the hell?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Yunohama speaks up from his spot next to Reon. Apparently he’s been googling soccer things to eventually work up the nerve to speak with Hinata’s captain. “You can basically move wherever you want, as long as no one’s behind Dateko’s last defender.”

“Yeah, but what’s the point of having a formation if you’re gonna _break_ it?” Shirabu points out, looking at Natsu. She’s bouncing on her toes, roaming between the center circle and the sideline. He’s pretty sure her teammates have moved around too. 

Shiratorizawa’s keeper drops the ball onto the field, intending to make a pass to put the ball into play. She looks up, and takes a quick step back to make space for a run-up. Then she raises an arm and calls out for a teammate.

“_HINATA!_” Her hand falls, and she kicks the ball down the field.

* * *

Shouyou thought Dateko’s super-long throw was cool, but it’s _nothing_ compared to Aone Yui’s stationary kick. 

The ball goes _far_. _Really freaking far. _

The crowd begins to scream as the ball arches above the field, reaching its apex over the halfway line. By the time Shouyou starts looking for Natsu again, she’s practically at the edge of Dateko’s penalty box and she’s already mid-jump, high above the girl trying to stop her, the ball landing neatly against her leg and bouncing forward. "Yes! Go Nacchan!"

“She jumps a lot like you,” Kageyama says absently. “Huh.”

“Awesome!” Nishinoya shouts, shaking Yamaguchi’s shoulders. “Look at her go! She’s FAST!”

“Nacchan,” Shouyou murmurs thoughtfully, as the distance between #21 and the goal shrinks. Then louder, “_NACCHAN! GO!_”

“Hinata!!” His cheer is echoed by a few others in the stands, but Shouyou doesn’t turn to see who it is. “_Go Hinata!”_

He counts Natsu take two touches on the ball, three, zipping past a defender caught unaware—but they don’t follow her closely, Dateko instead focusing on blocking the strikers from closing into the center. Natsu’s too far down the field to get a good angle on the goal, but—

* * *

_The goalie’s off her line,_ Natsu notes, seeing it all so clearly._ Yamane can't call for the pass, she’s being marked. _

_So, I should just…_

* * *

Shouyou looks past Natsu to Dateko’s goalkeeper; she’s unconsciously stepped forward, following the ball with her eye, putting too much space between her and the goal post. So even with strikers open in the center, why would Natsu need to pass—?

There’s no wind-up, no pause. Instead of taking another dribble, instead of looking up for a cross to the middle, Natsu toes the ball sharply. 

The net swishes behind Dateko’s keeper. 

* * *

Natsu slows her run down to a standstill, letting the defender on her tail run past her. Dateko’s keeper gets to her feet. Natsu twists around to look for the referee. 

A loud whistle cuts through the air. The referee signals. 

Goal.

_What?_

“_HINATAAAAAA!_” Iwabuchi barrels into her, lifting her by the waist with a howl. Yamane shouts a few times from the far side of the box, but Natsu’s attention strays to the other side of the field.

Aone’s face is glowing with satisfaction. She points a finger straight at Natsu. 

“_AONE-SAN!!_” Natsu hollers at the top of her lungs, grinning so hard it makes her face ache. She points back, a hundred yards away. “AONE-SAN, NICE PASS! NICE ASSIST!”

A chorus of praise ripples over her team, for her and Aone. 

Natsu jogs back onto their side of the field, earning a high-five from Sakaguchi and Takahashi. (But not Ariyoshi, because she’s allergic to team spirit or something).

“I told you,” Utsugi raises her voice, giving Natsu a shrewd look. 

“Told me what?” Natsu wonders, still breathless. She isn't quite sure how far she just ran, but she's winded.

“That you’d make a good striker.”

_...Striker?_

Natsu feels like she’s just been struck over the head with a soccer ball. She’s been playing as a defender so far, but she's been practicing like an attacking midfielder in most of their practices. It’s why she could pull off the counter attack with Aone and Yamane, they run that drill with the keepers all the time. 

Except when they do that drill in practice, Aone doesn’t kick it _that_ far. And it’s meant to be the start of an attacking play for Yamane or Masuya to finish with. But while Aone had called for Hinata before she made the kick, it hadn’t been aimed anywhere _near_ Natsu. She ran so far for that pass, she’d only had one defender left to beat and no one else to pass to.

Oh. 

“But—but you made me a _wing-back!_” She points an accusing finger at the captain, flabbergasted. “Captain! _Make up your mind!_” 

Utsugi shrugs, turning back to focus on the game. “They’re going to try marking you now,” she says simply. “Make them work for it.”

Natsu shoots an exasperated look at the captain’s back. “Got it, Utsugi-san.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok im finally writing the soccer-heavy part but there's still more of this game to write arhhhhgggh
> 
> come yell at me on tumblr, i draw fanart and ramble about headcanons for this fic @/grilledsquids

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [sunshine of our love](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24726301) by [irleggsy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/irleggsy/pseuds/irleggsy)


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